In The Grip Of Darkness
by JJ Rust
Summary: Experience the American Front of The Second Wizarding War through the eyes of my four American OCs.
1. Days Of Innocence

**CHAPTER ONE: DAYS OF INNOCENCE**

* * *

_LOCATION: Boston, Massachusetts, USA._

_TIME FRAME: Two years before "Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone." _

_Don't skip. Skipping's for little kids._

Jimmy O'Bannon kept telling himself that over and over again. It was a constant struggle not to skip down the gray brick sidewalk. He'd never been so excited in his entire life. He doubted he'd be this excited if he met every single player from the Bruins, Red Sox, Patriots and Celtics all at once.

Today was the day he was getting his wizard stuff!

_I __still __can__'__t __believe __I__'__m __a __wizard. __This __is __so __wicked __pissah!_

He paid scant attention to the vehicles going up and down the street and the pedestrians all around him. Most of his focus was on the huge, red-brick structure of Faneuil Hall. That's where the letter from the Salem Witches Institute said he'd meet his wizarding guides. He still couldn't get over the fact that letter had been delivered by an owl. How cool was that?

"Do you think that's them?"

Jimmy looked up at the woman with coiffed dark hair and thick glasses walking next to him.

"Dressed like that, I don't think there's any doubt." The tall, balding, bearded man on the other side of him stared down the sidewalk. Jimmy followed his father's gaze.

A stocky woman with short dark hair stood near the corner of Faneuil Hall. She wore a green skirt that went all the way down to her shoes and a frilly blouse. The outfit looked like something a woman from the last century would wear.

He then noticed a thickly-built, balding man next her. He wore a stiff brown suit that, like the woman's clothes, would have been in style a hundred years ago.

Jimmy felt a hand clamp down on his shoulder. He looked up at his mother, her face tight and nervous.

"Mom," he moaned. My God, this was getting annoying. Every time something came up involving the Wizarding World, Mom always looked on the verge of freaking out. Why did she get so scared about this? Why couldn't she see how cool this whole thing was?

"Are you the Diazes?" Dad asked.

The woman smiled and stepped forward. "You must be the O'Bannons. Wonderful to meet you. I'm Liana Diaz. This is my husband, Irving."

"Douglas." Dad shook Mrs. Diaz's hand. "And this is my wife, Ellen."

"Hi." Mom hesitantly shook the Diazes' hands.

"And you must be Jimmy." Mrs. Diaz smiled at him.

"Yeah. Hi." He shook her hand enthusiastically, surprised at the woman's firm grip. "So you're gonna take me to get all my wizarding stuff?"

"Yes I am. In fact, my husband and I have volunteered on Headmistress Esmeralda's behalf for years to escort Muggle-borns and their parents through Milmothryn Market."

He couldn't help but chuckle. _Milmothryn __Market._ Where did they come up with that name?

"Actually we're killing two birds with one stone today," said Mr. Diaz. "I hope you don't mind, but while we're helping out you folks, we're also going to be shopping for our youngest son. He's starting his first year at Salem, too."

"Speaking of which, where are . . ." Mrs. Diaz rotated her head left to right. Her gaze finally settled on two boys, a tall, muscular one with thick dark hair that almost reached his shoulders, and a younger, rounder one with a mass of curled black hair. They both gawked at a huge, boxy vehicle parked by the curb.

"Jared! Esteban! Get over here!"

The two boys hurried over to Mrs. Diaz, the younger one's eyes lit up in fascination.

"Mom. Did you see that huge Muggle car over there? Man, that thing is enormous. You could probably fit, like, twenty people in there."

"Jared, settle down. I want to introduce you to the people who'll be joining us today. This is Mr. and Mrs. O'Bannon and their son, Jimmy. These are my sons, Jared and Esteban."

"Hi." Jimmy shook hands with Jared.

"Great to meet you. That's so cool you're a Muggle-born. I haven't met too many of them. You know, Esteban here . . ." He nodded to the older boy behind him. "He dated a Muggle-born at Salem last year. But she dumped him before he could bring her home to meet us all."

"You mind leaving my personal life out of this?" Esteban narrowed his eyes at Jared.

Jimmy clenched his teeth, fighting back a laugh.

"Say," Jared continued. "You wouldn't happen to know what kind of car that is over there."

He looked past him to the large vehicle. "Oh yeah. That's one of those Hummers."

Jared's forehead crinkled. _"__Humors?__"_

"Hummers."

"Hummers. Right. Gotcha. Man, we definitely have to hang out at Salem. With you around, I won't have to take Muggle Studies."

"That's what you think, young man." Mrs. Diaz fixed him with a stern look.

Jared gave his mother a sheepish grin. He then turned back to him. "Well, you ready to go?"

"You kidding? I've been waiting for this day for weeks." He grinned wide at Jared, whom he decided was a pretty cool kid.

"So where is this Milmo-Milmithern Market?" Mom looked in all directions.

"Follow me."

Mrs. Diaz walked a few paces along Faneuil Hall before stopping at a faded wooden door. A hand-painted sign hung inside the cracked window declaring NO ADMITTANCE.

She removed a brown stick from her skirt, tapped the doorknob twice, then put the stick back in her skirt.

"All right. Let's go." Mrs. Diaz opened the door and stepped through.

Mom and Dad exchanged confused looks. Even Jimmy felt confused. Why would Mrs. Diaz want them to go in there? He'd been to Faneuil Hall plenty of times and never saw anything that looked remotely magical.

"Don't worry." Mr. Diaz smiled and pointed his hand at the open door. "It's perfectly safe."

Jimmy looked at his parents, who both stared at the door, unsure whether or not to go through it.

_Well __I__'__m __not __gonna __wait __around __for __them._

He ran toward the door.

"Jimmy!"

He ignored his mother's cry and dashed inside.

Darkness overwhelmed him. Panic built up within him. What the heck was going on?

Suddenly the darkness vanished. His jaw fell open.

_Wicked __.__.__. __friggin__' __.__.__. __pissah._

An open air market greeted him. Shops with colonial-style facades stood on either side of him. He also noticed numerous wooden stalls set up along the dirt road selling . . . well, he couldn't believe some of the stuff they sold. Ground flubberworm? Pegaside teeth? Powdered raven beaks? What the heck could all that be for?

And the people? Many of them dressed just like the Diazes. Others wore flowing robes. A few women even had on the typical pointy witch's hat.

"Oh my . . . my . . .

He turned around and saw Mom slowly gazing around this Milmothryn Market in disbelief. She held Dad's hand. Dad, for his part, looked just as shocked.

"Cool, ain't it?" Jared beamed at Mom and Dad.

Dad shook his head. "I don't get it. How . . . how can you hide can something like this from everyone?"

Mrs. Diaz shrugged. "Magic, Mr. O'Bannon. Plain and simple magic. Well, given all the wards and charms needed to keep The Market invisible to Muggles, maybe not so simple."

"But what's to stop someone from breaking down that door and coming in here?" asked Mom.

"The door's charmed so it can't be broken down by Muggle means," answered Mr. Diaz. "Plus, there's another charm on the sign that eliminates any curiosity a passing Muggle may have to try the door."

Mom slowly shook her head. "This is so . . . unbelievable."

"This is only the beginning." Mrs. Diaz grinned at her. "Come on."

They followed her along the cobblestone sidewalk. Jimmy gazed around The Market, trying to take in everything. Mom and Dad, on the other hand, looked like they wanted to run back outside, especially when some skinny guy in a wooden stall shoved a jar of "goat tongues" in Mom's face.

He never heard Mom scream so loud.

Some of the people they passed gave him and his parents curious looks. A handful surprised him by nodding and saying "hello" to them. That shocked him. He couldn't remember total strangers saying "hi" to him or his parents on the streets of Boston.

"Well, here's our first stop," Mrs. Diaz declared. "Binribbs Book Bin."

Jimmy stared at the store window, which had a glittering silver banner that read THE ALL-SEEING EYE SOLD HERE. The words were bordered by a human eye. He drew his head back in astonishment. Did those eyes just blink?

He then looked below the banner. The large front page of a newspaper hung in the window. The headline screamed in big black letters UK MINISTER OF MAGIC FUDGE TO TOUR NORTH AMERICA. The roly-poly, gray-haired man in the black-and-white photo wore a pinstriped suit and a black cloak. He smiled and waved . . . _actually _smiled and waved!

"What the . . ." He pointed to the photo. "The . . . the guy in that photo's moving!"

Mom and Dad hurried over and stared at the moving photo in wide-eyed shock. Jared looked at it for a few moments, turned to them and shrugged. "Yeah?"

Jimmy whipped his head toward him. "What'd ya mean 'yeah?' The guy in that photo is moving!"

"Well why wouldn't he be?"

"Jared." Mrs. Diaz called from the bookstore entrance. "Muggles, remember?"

He winced. "Oh yeah. Sorry. Your pictures don't move?"

"No," Jimmy answered. "Well, I mean, only on TV."

Jared's face scrunched up. "What's a TV?"

He shook his head, his jaw dropping. "You never heard of a TV? Seriously?"

"Um, no. Sorry."

He blinked, trying to absorb Jared's statement. Did magical people not have TVs? Were there no TVs at Salem? Oh crap, did that mean he was going to miss the World Series and the Super Bowl when he was there?

The disturbing thought stayed with him as he entered the bookstore. Rows of tall bookshelves stretched as far as he could see. Little circles of couches and cushioned chairs had been set aside where people could sit and read.

The Diazes helped him and Jared get their textbooks. The first one was _Terwilliger__'__s__Transfiguration__for__Beginners._ Jimmy opened the book. An illustrated wizard on one page actually moved his wand up and down.

_Too __cool._

Other books he got included _Heron__'__s __Basic __Book __of __Potions, __What __Every __Young __Witch __and __Wizard __Needs __To __Know __About __Magical __Defense, __Zogbee__'__s __Introduction __to __Charms, __Pilante__'__s __Magical __History __in __a __Nutshell _and _Butterfield__'__s __Beginner__'__s __Guide __to __Herbology._ Jimmy's breathing quickened. He couldn't wait to get home and start reading these books.

_When __was __the __last __time __I __was __this __excited __about __school?_

_Try never._

On their way to the counter, Jimmy passed a circular table with stacks of books. A large moving black-and-white photo stood in the center, featuring a man with wavy hair and a gleaming smile dramatically waving a wand. The sign next to the photo read, INTERNATIONAL BEST-SELLING AUTHOR AND BATTLER OF THE DARK ARTS GILDEROY LOCKHART.

He checked out some of the man's books. _Voyages __with __Vampires, __Wanderings __with __Werewolves, __Break __with __a __Banshee._

"Aw man. Not this guy." Jared had appeared next to him.

Jimmy turned to him, then back to the photo. "What's wrong with him?"

Jared scowled. "My mom and dad read one of his books and said he had to be making up half the stuff he claimed to do. This Lockhart guy's a doofus. But don't tell my cousin that. I swear she's in love with him."

He picked up a copy of _Wanderings __with __Werewolves _and thumbed through it.

"So, werewolves really exist?"

"Oh heck yeah." Jared nodded.

"And Vampires and Banshees, too?"

"Uh-huh."

Jimmy mouthed a silent "wow" and put the book back. While their parents purchased their books, he quizzed Jared on all the other mythical monsters he'd seen in books and movies growing up. Dragons really existed. So did centaurs. Unicorns, too. Trolls? Yup. Goblins? You bet.

_This __world __just __gets __cooler __and __cooler._

Next the group headed for a clothing store to buy school robes for him and Jared, then to another shop where they bought a cauldron and other tools necessary for potion making. Along the way the Diazes ran into a few people they knew, including the couple named the Lancemores, whose son, Gregory, was also starting his first year at Salem. They all seemed really nice.

"All right!" Jared bounced as he walked. "This is the one I've been waiting for."

Jimmy followed his gaze to a store with a wooden hand clutching a stick poking out above the doorway. Colorful sparks shot from the tip of the stick and formed glittering blue letters that spelled out AUSTRALIUS' WAND SHOP.

He grinned wide. He'd been dying to use a wand since he saw Headmistress Esmeralda's demonstration at his house a few weeks ago.

Jared sprinted toward the store. Jimmy took off after him a split second later. Every inch of his body tingled with excitement. He imagined waving a wand and levitating a car or making his hockey stick shoot pucks by itself.

_Or __making __all __the __friggin__' __Yankees __forget __how __to __play __baseball __the __next __time __they__'__re __at __Fenway._

The wand shop itself was not very spectacular. Just rows of shelves with small pine boxes lining the walls. The set-up reminded him of a shoe store.

"Good afternoon, young gentlemen."

A rotund man with powder white hair and rosy cheeks ambled over to them. His physical appearance and clothes reminded Jimmy of some of the Revolutionary War re-enactors he'd seen around Boston over the years . . . minus the dark blue robe.

"Let me guess. First Year at Salem, eh?"

"Uh-huh." Jared's head snapped up and down.

"Saying, 'Yes, Sir. That's correct,' would be a more polite response, Jared."

The man's face lit up as Mrs. Diaz entered the shop, followed by her husband.

"Liana. Irving. Good to see you again. Oh my. Is that Esteban? Where does the time go? Seems like yesterday you were in here buying your first wand. Oh! Are your wands still working well? In the mood for an upgrade, perhaps?"

"Not today, Archimedes," said Mr. Diaz. "Just a first wand for our youngest, Jared. And his friend."

He introduced Jimmy and his parents to Archimedes Australius, whose family had been making and selling wands in New England since colonial times.

"So," Mr. Australius clasped his hands. "Which one of you wants to go first?"

"You go, Jimmy." Jared nudged him. "I mean, you're the one who's new to the Wizarding World."

"Thanks." He smiled at him.

Mr. Australius led him over to a row of shelves, humming to himself as he scanned the boxes. After about a minute, he grabbed one and opened it.

"Here we go. Maple with Pegaside feather core."

Jimmy took the wand from and stared at it. "Um, so do I just wave it?"

"Mm-hmm." Mr. Australius nodded. "Don't worry if you don't know any spells. We just need to see how it reacts to you."

"Huh?" He scrunched his face.

Mr. Australius leaned over and smiled. "It's a proven fact in our world, Young Mister O'Bannon. The wand picks the wizard. Now go ahead and give it a flick."

Jimmy's breathing increased as he eyed the wand. Tingles surged through his body. He thought of all the dramatic swishing Gilderoy Lockhart did with his wand.

Taking a deep breath, he raised the wand and flicked it in a near-perfect figure eight.

The wood counter ten feet away burst into flames.

"Jimmy!" Mom screamed.

"I'm sorry!" He looked at Mr. Australius, trembling. "I'm sorry!" Oh my God, was he in trouble.

To his surprise, the old man smiled. "Oh pish-posh." He waved a dismissive hand at him. "Happens all the time with First Years. Heck, some of them wind up blowing up part of my wall."

Mr. Australius took out his wand. A stream of water shot from the tip and put out the fire. Another wave of the wand got rid of the smoke.

_Wicked __pissah._Jimmy forgot his panic, anxious to do something like that himself.

Mr. Australius gave him more wands to try. He couldn't believe how many different kinds there were. Juniper with phoenix feather core. Ponderosa with coyote hair core. Spruce with hippogriff feather core.

None of them were for him, according to Mr. Australius. Dark fingers of dread slid through Jimmy. What if no wand worked for him? Would they kick him out of the Wizarding World? No. No way! How could they introduce him to this incredible world, then just shut him out?

His hands sweat as Mr. Australius gave him another wand, Red Ash with gryphon hair core.

_Please __work. __Please __work._

Tensing, he waved the wand back and forth in a "U" pattern.

Five pine boxes levitated off their shelves, hovered for a few seconds, then settled back on their shelves.

"Well done!" Mr. Australius laughed and clapped his hands. "Well done, Young Mister O'Bannon!"

He couldn't help himself. He jumped up and down, turning to his parents. Dad nodded, while Mom gave him a half-smile.

Jared's turn came next. It took three tries to find his wand, red mulberry with thunderbird feather core.

"Man . . ." Jared beamed as he stared at his new wand. "I can't wait for the first class I get to use this -"

A gangly girl with straight black hair appeared from nowhere and jumped on Jared's back. She slapped her hands over his eyes.

"Guess who?"

Jared grunted. "An annoying twerp of a cousin."

The girl broke her hold on him and backed away, sticking her tongue out. "I was wondering when I'd catch up with you." She peered over Jared's shoulder. "Who's your cute friend?"

Jimmy felt his ears and cheeks grow hot. _Did __she __just __call __me __cute?_

"This is Jimmy O'Bannon, the Muggle-born we're showing around Milmothryn Market. Jimmy, this is my cousin, Rosa Infante."

"Um, hey."

"Hi there." Rosa took his hand and pumped it furiously, her smile growing wider. "That's so cool you're Muggle-born. Oh, now I can ask you this. What are those Muggle versions of aurors called?"

Jimmy drew his head back. "What?"

"Aurors. They're the protectors of the Wizarding World. That's what my parents do, and Aunt Liana. And that's what I'm gonna be when I grow up."

"Yes, I know." Jared sounded annoyed. "You keep saying that over and over and over and over . . ."

"Oh shut up." Rosa scowled at her cousin, then turned back to him. "So what do you call your aurors in the Muggle world?"

"Um . . . I guess police."

"_Pu-leez. _Cool. I've always wondered how the Muggle aurors do their job without wands and stuff. You can tell me all about it." Rosa grinned anxiously and bounced on her feet.

Jimmy gave her a queer look. He'd long since decided Jared was cool, but as for his cousin Rosa . . . well, he didn't know what to make of her yet.

Rosa introduced him to her parents, Adelaide and Cesario. They were both very nice, and Rosa's Mom, with her slender figure and long black hair, looked really pretty.

The first wand Rosa used turned out to be a keeper for her; elm with Loup Garou hair core. Jimmy couldn't help feel a bit jealous her wand picking went so easily, but another part of him sensed that this skinny, hyper girl could become a really good witch.

After buying their wands, the group headed for the door.

"I can't wait for our first Defense Against the Dark Arts class," Rosa said. "You just watch. When I'm in that class, I'm gonna kick everyone's ass."

"Rosa!" Mr. Infante spun around, fixing a harsh stare on his daughter.

"Oops. Um, sorry, Dad."

Jimmy studied Rosa Infante. The girl appeared very confident. Maybe overconfident.

_Then __again, __don__'__t __you __think __the __same __thing __every __time __you __play __hockey __or __baseball?_

He bobbed his head back and forth. Maybe Rosa would turn out to be just as cool as Jared.

"Well. Liana. Slumming with Muggles again, eh?"

All eyes turned to a tall man with a large belly standing before them on the sidewalk. Jimmy also noticed the man had no right hand.

"Mordecai," Mrs. Diaz replied tersely. "I take issue with your choice of words. My family is introducing this Muggle-born and his parents to our world."

"Heh! I suppose someone has to," grunted another man, this one round with a stern, angular face and white hair. Three boys stood around him, one tall and broad, the second lumpy and wearing glasses, and the third, the youngest, tall and shy-looking.

"My husband and I do this because we want to, Ulysses."

"Yes, I'm sure. Well, enjoy your time with . . . _them.__"_ He shot Jimmy and his parents a look of contempt. Dad's face tightened. Mom looked nervous. Jimmy gave the old man the harshest look he could muster.

"Come on." Ulysses turned to the three boys. "We still have a lot to do. Let's not waste any more time."

He started into Australius' shop, followed by the muscular boy. The shy boy followed, his eyes locked on the ground. The boy with the glasses clasped his shoulder.

"C'mon, Artimus. Be excited. You're about to get your first wand."

The other man, Mordecai, looked down the sidewalk. "Merak!"

A round boy with dark hair who'd been gazing into a store window strode up to the man and followed him toward the wand shop. He halted next to Jimmy, Jared and Rosa, eyeing their wands.

"Nice wands," the boy smirked. "Of course, I'll be getting one of the Ollivander's they keep in stock here. Artimus, too. Best wands in the world, direct from England. But, for you three, I guess _those_will do."

"Suck puss, Mather." Rosa glared at him.

"Oh, clever comeback." The boy, Merak Mather, shook his head and went inside the shop.

Jimmy's face twisted in anger, his gaze lingering on the door Mather had disappeared through. "Who were all those jerks?"

"The Mathers and the Rands." Rosa continued to glare at the wand shop. "Snobby, rich businessmen. They think they're all superior because their families have been in New England since, well, since before there even was a Salem Witches Institute."

"Yeah." Jared nodded. "And from what I hear, all their sons are the same way."

"I don't know about that," Esteban offered. "I'm in the same year as Hector." He glanced at Jimmy. "That's the one with the glasses. Anyway, Hector's actually pretty decent."

Jimmy's lips twitched as he thought of the other boy, Artimus was it? Was he a jerk like his dad? He didn't seem so. In fact, he seemed . . .

_I __don__'__t __know. __Bummed __out?_ He couldn't imagine why if he came from a rich family.

"I didn't like the looks they were giving us." Mom stepped closer to Dad. She then turned to Mrs. Diaz. "Why were they so rude to us? Why did that one man call us _them_ like that?"

Mrs. Diaz sighed, staring at the ground for a moment. "Look, Ellen. There's something you need to understand. There are some in the Wizarding World who don't look very kindly on Muggle-borns. They consider them interlopers or less-than-adequate wizards or witches. Stupid elitist attitude. To those people blood is everything. They think only those from pure wizarding families, or _purebloods, _are the only kind of wizards or witches that matter."

Mom shuddered. "They're . . . they're not going to hurt Jimmy, are they?"

"Mom, jeez. Will you quit worryin'."

"Don't tell me not to worry! Not when we come into this world and I find out people hate you just because you're Muggle-born!" Mom's rant drew the stares of several people walking up and down the street. He also noticed how she had to force out the word _Muggle, _as though she didn't like it.

"Ellen." Mrs. Diaz laid a hand on Mom's shoulder. For a moment, it looked like Mom might shrug it off. "I can understand your worries, being thrust into a world that until a few weeks ago you thought was something out of a fable, and knowing that your son will be spending several months in this world without you. But magical or not, we witches and wizards are basically people. People who can do extraordinary things, but people nonetheless. And like most people, there are some good ones, and some not so good ones. But myself, Adelaide and Cesario make sure we protect the good ones from the bad ones. And trust me when I say that Jimmy will be in good hands when he's at Salem."

Mom stared in silence at Mrs. Diaz for several seconds. She seemed to accept the woman's words, or if she didn't, she didn't voice it.

They continued through Milmothryn Market, with Rosa bragging to him and Jared how she'd have a leg up on every other First Year in Defense Against the Dark Arts because her auror parents had already taught her a bunch of basic defensive spells.

"Who knows? I might even get accepted into dueling club my First Year." She elbowed Jimmy's arm. "My mom was a three-time dueling champion when she was at Salem. I'm gonna be at least a four-time champ."

He nodded, clenching his teeth. Rosa started to sound like some of the kids he encountered in youth hockey and little league, the ones who thought themselves the greatest players since Bobby Orr or Ted Williams. The sort of kids who needed to get taken down a notch or two. Maybe when he learned enough spells in Defense Against the Dark Arts, he'd check out this dueling club and find out just how good Rosa Infante was.

The next two items he got caused more worry for Mom. First came the broom. He was stoked to learn he could actually fly a broom.

"That sounds dangerous," Mom said. "What if he falls off? What if he crashes?"

"Mom, for God's sake, I play hockey. Like there's no risk in that?"

Second was the familiar. Basically a pet. Jared told him to go with an owl since he could use it to send and pick up mail.

"How can we have an owl in the house?" Mom complained in the middle of Hiennan's House of Familiars. "Can you imagine the mess that thing will make?"

Jimmy covered his face with his hands. Was Mom's only purpose on this earth to embarrass him in front of the world?

Thankfully, Rosa's mom explained how owls in the Wizarding World were trained to be very manageable pets. Mom did relent to him getting an owl, but reminded him, "You're the one who's going to take care of that bird."

He left the store with a Black Crested Owl he decided to name Espo, after former Boston Bruins great Phil Esposito.

When they finished their shopping, the adults went to a tavern and sent him, Jared and Rosa to Yum-Tum's Sweets and Delectables across the street.

"You gotta do the ice cream," Rosa told him. "It's the best thing here."

She led them to a large wooden barrel hooked up to a metal pipe that ran all the way to the back of the store. A round-faced, pretty girl in a white apron stood beside the barrel.

"Apple, banana, peach and orange," Rosa stated.

"Coming right up." The girl tapped the barrel four times with her wand. It emitted a deep chugging sound, then vibrated so violently Jimmy expected it to explode.

Seconds later the barrel stilled. The girl opened the top, reached in and came up with two big scoops of what looked like ordinary vanilla ice cream. She dumped it into a metal bowl and handed it to Rosa.

"Thanks." She smiled and walked away.

Jared stepped up to the barrel. "I'm gonna do . . . chocolate, marshmallow and caramel."

Again the barrel groaned and shook. The girl scooped out Jared's ice cream. Jimmy watched him walk away, then turned back to the girl. She gave him a friendly smile.

"Um, do you have mint chocolate chip?"

The girl's brow furrowed. "I'm sorry, but I never heard of that flavor."

His eyes widened. What the heck? The Wizarding World could make photos that move, but that hadn't discovered mint chocolate chip ice cream?

_Are __you __kidding __me? _He wondered if this world also never heard of rocky road. How much would that suck if he couldn't get his two favorite flavors of ice cream here?

"Um, I'm sorry. But, um, I'm not really sure how this all works."

"Oh. Muggle-born, right?"

He nodded hesitantly, praying the girl wouldn't act the way the Mathers and the Rands did.

"Don't worry. I've dealt with plenty of Muggle-borns in here. It's really simple. Just name any sort of flavor or food, at least ones that we know of, and they'll go right into the ice cream."

"Uh, okay. Um . . . how about . . . um, chocolate . . . peanut butter . . . fudge . . . and, um, whipped cream."

Seconds later Jimmy held a metal bowl with two big scoops of white ice cream.

"Uh, where's the whipped cream?"

"It's in the ice cream. Trust me, you'll enjoy it."

He walked over to the wooden table where Jared and Rosa sat, smiles on their faces as they ate their ice cream. He sat down, spoon hovering over his bowl.

_What __the __heck? __Let__'__s __give __it __a __try._

He took a spoonful and shoved it in his mouth. His eyes widened as every flavor exploded on his tongue. Chocolate, peanut butter, fudge, even whipped cream.

"Oh my God! This is awesome!" He dug in with a vengeance.

When he was halfway done, his eyes flickered between the two. "Hey, guys. Can I ask you something?"

"Sure." Jared shrugged.

"Well, I'm just curious how your parents know the Mathers and the Rands. They just don't seem the kind to hang out with people like that." He winced, fearing how they might interpret that. "I mean, your folks are nice and cool, and the Mathers and the Rands are just, well, jagoffs."

"Yeah, I know." Jared nodded. "Actually, my parents and Rosa's parents worked with Mister Mather and Mister Rand during the war. That's how Merak's dad lost his hand. Got nailed with a curse during the Battle of Smithjohnny Bridge."

"War? What war?"

"_The _war." Rosa looked at him like he should have known what she meant. "Oh. Sorry. A few years ago there was this really evil wizard over in Britain. I mean, this guy was so bad we don't even call him by his name. We call him things like He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named or You-Know-Who. But he tried to take over the world. Yeah, he spent most of his time in Europe, but he had followers all over the world, including here. Our parents and a bunch of other people fought them."

"So what happened to this You-Know-Who guy?"

"Nobody really knows." Jared held his spoon halfway to his mouth. "I mean, he's gone. Everyone figures he's dead."

"So how did he die?"

"Like I said. Nobody really knows. He was in Britain, right, and he went to kill this family. He got the mom and the dad, but when he tried to kill their baby, well, something happened. The curse You-Know-Who cast backfired. The baby lived, but he died."

Jimmy gave him a bewildered look. "How does a baby kill an evil wizard?"

"I don't know." Rosa shook her head. "He just did."

"The great Harry Potter." Jared said enthusiastically. "That's his name. One year old and he became one of the greatest heroes in the Wizarding World."

"Can you imagine how cool it would be to meet him?" A big smile formed on Rosa's face. "I swear I'd just go all giddy if I ever found myself in the same room with Harry Potter."

"You'd probably think he was cute, too." Jared batted his eyes at her.

"Shut up, dork." Rosa slapped him on the shoulder.

"So, guys. This You-Know-Who. He's really dead, right?"

"Oh heck yeah," Jared said. "Well, there are some people who think he's still alive, but if that were true, he'd probably be stomping all over the place killing people. Nah, there's nothing to worry about from that guy. All we gotta worry about is passing our classes."

Jimmy dug into his ice cream as the cousins talked about what sort of things they could expect at Salem, most of the information coming courtesy of Jared's brother Esteban. In Third Year they'd take a class where you got to work up close and personal with some of the creatures he only thought make believe until know. He couldn't believe that one day he would actually see a real live unicorn, maybe get to feed it and pet it. They would learn charms that could produce shields and make you blend into the background like _Predator _and even produce some kind of positive energy force called a patronus that, if you were really good, you could form into an animal.

The two then talked about this game called Quidditch. It sounded pretty cool, almost like an aerial version of hockey, only with brooms and multiple balls instead of ice and sticks and pucks. Still, he had his heart set on playing in Salem's club hockey league. He thanked God for the two Muggle-borns way back in the 50's who originally started the sport at the school. Still, he was anxious to check out this Quidditch thing. Maybe he'd like it as much as hockey and baseball and football.

By the time he finished his awesome ice cream, he wished school would start tomorrow.

_The __heck __with __tomorrow. __I __wish __it __would __start __right __now._

After everything he'd seen and heard today regarding spells and mythical animals and wands and brooms and Quidditch, and being around people like Jared and his parents and, yes, even Rosa, he knew one thing for certain.

He was going to have so much fun in the Wizarding World.

_**NEXT: **We warp ahead to Book Seven. 'Nuff said._

**AUTHOR****'****S ****NOTE: **_The __Loup __Garou __is __a __legendary __wolf-like __creature __that __has __been __reported __throughout __Louisiana._


	2. Stormburst

**CHAPTER 2: STORMBURST**

* * *

_Washington DC, USA, nine years later_

* * *

Smoke filled the air. Screams echoed off the brick walls of the corridors.

An explosion rocked the foundations of the Young Wizards and Witches Athletics and Activities Association. Jimmy O'Bannon grunted as he stumbled into the wall. He drew a breath, clutching his wand firmly. He had to keep going, get back to the second floor gymnasium where his hockey class was meeting. No way would he let the damn Death Eaters get those kids.

He turned the corner and spotted the brick stairwell. Spells crackled and sizzled behind him. An agonized scream pierced his ears. Did it come from a Death Eater, or one of his fellow employees?

The urge to go back filled him. How many of the people who worked at the YWWAAA could take on Death Eaters? Their specialty was organizing sporting events for young wizards and witches, not combat.

He closed his eyes. The people who worked here were adults. They'd had Defense Against the Dark Arts training at whatever wizarding school they attended . . . and hopefully they remembered some of it.

Most of the eighteen kids in his class didn't even have a wand.

Drawing a breath, O'Bannon ran toward the stairs. He hurdled the first two steps and prepared to bound over the next two.

"There he is! There's O'Bannon!"

He spun around. Two figures with black robes and hoods stood at the other end of the corridor.

Death Eaters.

O'Bannon didn't hesitate. He cast two quick Stunning Spells at them.

They blocked them both.

He cast a Shield Spell. His entire body trembled as spells and curses slammed into the clear, undulating disc.

Gritting his teeth, he retreated up the stairs. When he reached the landing, he shut off his shield and sprinted down the corridor. It wouldn't take long for the Death Eaters to catch up to him. He needed to find cover. Now.

He spotted a wooden office door and ran toward it. The placard in the center read JULIUS GUMWIBBEN, DIRECTOR OF SPECIAL SPORTING PROGRAMS.

O'Bannon tried the knob. Locked.

"_Alohomora!"_

The door remained locked. He cursed. Someone must have strengthened it with a security ward.

Footsteps pounded up the stairs. The Death Eaters would be here any moment.

He took a couple steps back and aimed his wand at the door.

"_Redactor!"_

The door exploded into splinters. He dashed through the opening just as a curse streaked past him.

He peered around the door frame and stuck out his arm.

"_Petrificus Totalus!"_

The Death Eaters easily blocked his Body-Bind Curse.

O'Bannon went to his favorite spell of all.

"_Freezium!"_

The white beam of his Freezing Spell streaked down the corridor.

The Death Eaters brought up their wands. Bright red-orange tongues of flame met the Freezing Spell. A waterfall formed in mid-air and splattered on the floor.

"Dammit!" He spun around, leaning against the wall by the door frame. His mind raced. What the hell could he do? Spell-on-spell hadn't worked. He'd have to try something more . . . extreme.

Licking his lips, he whirled around. The Death Eaters had advanced halfway down the corridor. Both fired curses at him. O'Bannon ducked as the bolts struck the wall near him. Chips of brick and mortar rained down on him.

He pointed his wand to the ceiling. _"Cado!"_

Loud cracks split the air. Both Death Eaters looked up.

Chunks of the ceiling exploded. O'Bannon ducked back into the office. Horrid crashes filled the corridor. Clouds of dust rose outside the opening.

Within seconds, all was quiet.

He peeked out the office. The grayish dust cloud hovered over the corridor. Large chunks of concrete covered the floor. He spotted an arm and a leg poking through the debris. O'Bannon had no idea if the Death Eaters had survived the collapse or not.

_They're out of commission. That's all I care about._

A whimper caught his attention.

He whipped his head toward the desk. Another whimper came from behind it. A kid, maybe?

He approached the desk, wand at the ready. Tensing, he whirled around the desk and looked under it.

A tall, skinny man with receding brown hair and glasses sat scrunched up under the desk. He raised his trembling hands over his face.

"Mr. Gumwibben. Are you okay?"

The man answered with moans and half-sobs. "Wha . . . What's going on?"

"Death Eaters. They broke in here a few minutes ago. I gotta get to the kids in my hockey class, make sure they're all right. Come on. I need your help."

Gumwibben shook his head emphatically.

"Mr. Gumwibben. You're one of the people in charge of this place. Those kids are _your_ responsibility. Now get out from under there, grab your wand, and help me."

Tremors wracked Gumwibben's body. Tears ran down his cheeks. "I . . . I can't."

"Dammit!" O'Bannon slammed his fist on the top of the desk. Gumwibben flinched.

Shooting the man a scowl, he headed for the door. After scanning the corridor and making sure it was clear of Death Eaters, he bolted out of the office.

His heart pounded. Sweat covered his body. Fear gripped his soul. Fear he'd race into the gymnasium and find all eighteen kids dead.

_No. No way. That's not gonna happen._

For Merlin's sake he had two six-year-olds and three seven-year-olds in his class. Would even Death Eaters kill children that young?

Unfortunately, he knew the answer to that.

He rounded the corner into another corridor. The gymnasium was just around the next bend.

His legs pumped furiously. He ignored the burning in his lungs. He had to keep going. Had to save those kids.

He rounded the corner. The sight made his blood freeze.

A Death Eater pushed open the swinging doors of the gymnasium and went inside.

"No!" Teeth bared, O'Bannon rushed toward the doors.

"You filthy little maggots!" Someone yelled inside the gymnasium. It had to be the Death Eater. "You dishonor your heritage, your blood, by playing a game created by the damn Muggles? You've soiled the purity of our world! You're going to pay! All of you! You're going to pay . . ."

O'Bannon put down his shoulder and barreled through the doors. He spotted the Death Eater in front of him. He didn't stop running.

With a primal roar, he smashed into the Death Eater. They both crashed to the floor, sliding across the varnished wood until they reached the edge of the magically formed ice rink. Both their wands clattered to the floor.

O'Bannon quickly got to his feet. So did the Death Eater. With his hood knocked askew, O'Bannon got a good look at the guy's face. He was young, probably no more than five or six years older than him. He had angular features, a shaved scalp and a hardened expression that seemed out of place on someone in their mid-twenties.

O'Bannon started to go for his wand when the young Death Eater put up his fists.

_Okay. If that's how you wanna do it._

The Death Eater held his fists far to the sides. Confidence rose in O'Bannon. Too many wizards relied solely on their wands to fight. They seemed completely lost if they had to resort to hand-to-hand combat.

This asshole was no exception.

Even before the first punch could be thrown, the Death Eater made a critical mistake. He reared back his right arm, telegraphing his move.

O'Bannon easily dodged the blow. He snapped up his right hand and buried it in the Death Eater's gut. The asshole doubled over.

Another fist rammed into the Death Eater's mid-section. O'Bannon then grabbed the back of the asshole's robes and drove two upper cuts into his face. He felt flesh and bone crumple against his fingers.

Growling, he forcibly straightened the Death Eater and pulled him across the floor. Grabbing the back of his head, he slammed the asshole's face into the brick wall . . . twice! The Death Eater collapsed, his face covered in blood.

O'Bannon glared down at the unmoving Death Eater. "Don't ever threaten my kids, asswipe."

For good measure, he cast a Body-Bind Curse on the guy.

He spun around. The kids clustered together on the ice, staring at the scene with wide eyes. Many of them trembled. A few cried. He noticed skinny, dark-haired Jonah Cubbage hugging his younger sister, Jillian.

"You guys okay?" He approached the kids.

"Y-Yeah." A lanky redhead with a freckly pale face stepped forward. Daedalus Drunkenmiller. At twelve, he was the oldest kid in the class. "Wh-What's going on?"

O'Bannon bit down on his lip. This shouldn't be happening. Children should not be thrown into the middle of a war.

_Yeah, well there are a lot of things that shouldn't happen that do._

"Death Eaters are attacking the building."

At least half-a-dozen children started crying.

"Quiet! Quiet down!" O'Bannon waved his palms up and down. "Listen. I am not going to let them get you. We're going to get out of this. Okay?"

Many of the kids nodded, though the majority either trembled or had tears in their eyes.

"Good. Now, I need everyone to take off their skates, then get up against the wall."

O'Bannon split his attention between the kids and the doors. Tension squeezed his muscles. Any minute he expected a Death Eater to burst through the doors. He mentally shouted at the kids to hurry up and get their skates off. If they had to run, skates would just hinder them.

Some of the younger ones had trouble getting off their skates. Luckily Daedalus and a short Asian girl with a pixie hair cut, 11-year-old Kyon Yoon-Ku, helped them.

The moment the last kid removed her skates, O'Bannon waved them to get against the wall on the far side of the gymnasium, then joined them. He cast a Camouflage Charm on everyone, including himself, making them blend in with the wall. He then did the same to the unconscious Death Eater on the floor.

"Now remember, everyone. Don't make a sound. Even if the Death Eaters come in here, stay quiet. We don't want them to find us."

O'Bannon closed his eyes, praying the kids would be quiet. Praying the Death Eaters wouldn't do a thorough search of the gymnasium. Praying the Aurors Bureau or the Guild of the Light would show up. He had managed to send Rosa a brief patronus message informing her the YWWAAA was under attack.

_She should have been here by now._

He closed his eyes, trying to push down the panic welling up within him. More than anything he wanted his friends here; Rosa, Jared and Artimus. With them at his side he knew he could get out of any scrape. They'd done it before. Death Eaters in Ovenderburg, the Longathian Tunnel Affair, the mutated Chupacabra. They got through them all, because they fought together. They trusted each other with their lives.

_They'll come. They'll come._

The building shook from an explosion. A few of the kids gasped.

"Ssshh. Hold one another's hands. Everything will be all right."

He felt a small hand wrap around his. Who did he stand next to? Oh yeah, Deanna Jackson, an 11-year-old Muggle-born from Washington, D.C. He gave the girl's hand a firm yet gentle squeeze. Poor girl. He figured around this time last year she got her introduction to the Wizarding World. She probably walked through Haypippil Square, all wide-eyed and fascinated, thinking this was the greatest thing ever.

Now she found herself in the middle of a war.

O'Bannon's jaw tightened. He could sympathize with Deanna. It had barely been nine years ago when he learned he was a wizard. He remembered his first time in Boston's Milmothryn Market, how he thought nothing could be more awesome than being part of this magical world.

Never did he imagine he'd have to fight a war.

The doors banged open.

He tensed. _Keep quiet, kids. Keep quiet._

Thankfully they did.

Two tall Death Eaters stomped into the gymnasium and looked around. One of them spotted the pile of skates lying on the floor.

_Oh crap. _Why didn't he think to hide them?

"Look at this." The tallest Death Eater nodded to his partner, who walked over and examined the skates.

"What do you think?"

The first Death Eater shrugged. "It would be hard to run in those things. The little Mudbloods and blood traitors probably took them off and got the hell out of here. They have to still be in the building. We'll find them."

The Death Eaters started for the door. O'Bannon sighed quietly, thanking God for their good fortune . . . though he knew it would be short-lived. They couldn't hide in here forever. Surely his friends would be here long befo-

One of the girls sneezed.

O'Bannon's chest clenched.

The Death Eaters whirled around. One of them flicked his wand and uttered an incantation.

The Camouflage Charm around O'Bannon and the children vanished.

"Get behind me!" He jumped out in front of the kids and erected a shield. The kids screamed and hurried behind him. Spells and curses battered the shield.

"Alert the others!" the first Death Eater shouted to his companion. "We've got O'Bannon and the children. We need -"

Part of the far wall exploded. The children screamed. O'Bannon gasped and snapped his head right.

Four figures on brooms streaked into the gymnasium. A barrage of spells and curses flew from their wands. The Death Eaters spasmed and fell to the floor.

One of the figures hovered next to him, a young woman with a trim, athletic frame, long dark, curled hair and earrings that reminded him of dream catchers.

"What the hell took you so long?" He smiled at Rosa Infante.

She, however, did not return his smile. "Have you any idea what's going on out there? The Death Eaters are coming out of the woodwork, attacking everything in sight. Hell, even the Department of Magic's under attack."

"What!" Disbelief punched him in the gut. Tremors gripped his legs. Oh my God, this was really it. The storm clouds that had been gathering for months finally burst.

They were now in a full-scale war.

"I hate to tell you, man." Jared Diaz hovered next to his cousin. "Everything's gone to hell. The Midwest and Desert Southwest regional governors have been killed, giants are rampaging through Ovenderburg, and the Snowtop Mountain Magical Academy in Colorado's been leveled."

"We were just coming over here to tell you," Rosa said, "when we got your patronus message."

"Why the hell are they doing this now?"

"I'll tell you why." A hefty, brown-haired young man appeared next to the cousins. Behind him hovered a tall young man with angular features and close-cropped brown hair.

Hector Rand continued while his brother, Artimus, looked on. "Mireet received a message at the French Embassy a short time ago." He referred to O'Bannon's close friend Mireet Miradeaux, a former Beauxbatons Academy student who helped maintain the lines of communication between anti-Voldemort forces in the U.S. and Europe.

A sullen look came over Hector's face as he spoke. "You-Know-Who overthrew the British Ministry of Magic. Their Minister's been killed."

O'Bannon couldn't move. Intense cold wrapped around his body. He didn't want to believe it. He wanted to yell at Hector that he was lying.

His stomach churned. Two years. For two years the Guild of the Light, The Order of the Phoenix and other similar groups world-wide had fought to prevent this day.

They failed.

The fear grew inside him. He thought of all his friends in Britain. Fred and George and the rest of the Weasleys, Tonks, Lee Jordan, Harry Potter, Angelina Johnson, Dean Thomas, Seamus Finnigan, Ernie Macmillan, Michael Corner. Were they all right?

"How are the kids?" Rosa asked.

O'Bannon blinked. He turned to the children. Closing his eyes again, he pushed aside all his worries and fears. They had a job to do.

"They're fine. But we gotta get 'em someplace safe. I think they're the reason the Death Eaters are here. Them and me."

"What do you mean?" Artimus' brow furrowed.

"Some of the Death Eaters I fought mentioned me by name. And another was yelling at these kids about how they disgraced the Wizarding World by learning a Muggle game."

Rosa nodded. "Knowing how You-Know-Who's bunch feel about Muggles and Muggle-borns, yeah, I can see why they'd target you and these kids."

"I know a place we can take them to." Hector looked around at the quartet. "The Guild has a safe house in Bowling Green. We can keep them there for the time being."

"I want my mommy and daddy," Jillian sobbed.

O'Bannon walked over to her. "Jillian." He placed a hand on her shoulder. "We're gonna get you to your parents soon, okay? But right now, we gotta take you someplace where the bad guys can't get you and your brother." He glanced over at Jonah, who had a hand on Jillian's back. "As soon as things calm down, you'll be able to go home. Okay, honey?"

The teary-eyed girl nodded.

"Good. Now these guys here, they're my best friends in the whole world. And they're gonna help all of us. In fact, you see that girl there." He nodded to Rosa. "She's an auror-in-training, and she's tougher than me. Any Death Eater who comes near us, she's gonna take care of them."

Jillian gave him a weak smile.

He smiled at her, then turned back to his friends. "How's the outside looking?"

"We took care of the Death Eaters standing guard," Hector informed him.

"Good." O'Bannon strode toward the hole in the wall. "Let's start levitating the kids down. Daedalus! Kyon! Line everyone up, youngest to oldest."

"Okay," they both said. Being the oldest ones in his class, he usually had Daedalus and Kyon act as team captains during their scrimmages. He'd been impressed with the leadership skills they possessed at a young age, and knew he could trust them with this task.

"Rosa. Hector. Get back outside and keep an eye out for any more Death Eaters."

The two nodded and flew out the hole in the wall.

O'Bannon used his wand to form a thick ice wall over the gymnasium doors. If any Death Eaters showed up, that would hold them off . . . for at least a few seconds.

He, Jared and Artimus levitated the children to the ground as fast as possible. His eyes darted back and forth from the kids to the ice covered door. How much longer did they have before more of those pureblood fanatics showed up?

Luck was with them. No Death Eaters appeared as they got all eighteen children to the ground. O'Bannon got on the back of Artimus' broom as he flew outside, followed by Jared. Once they reached the ground, he and Rosa set up a mini-perimeter while Hector, Jared and Artimus Apparated the children to the Bowling Green safe house. Again, no Death Eaters hindered their evacuation. He wondered just how many of the attacking force were left. He had taken out three himself, while his friends took out two more inside the YWWAAA and two others guarding the eight-story, gothic-looking red brick structure in the middle of a wooded area of Washington's Anacostia Park.

_Maybe we got them all._ Surely at least one Death Eater should have stumbled across them by now.

Three cracks filled the air as Hector, Jared and Artimus Disapparated.

"Okay," said Hector. "All the kids are at the safe house."

"What now?" asked Rosa, who scanned the grounds of the YWWAAA, ready for any Death Eaters.

"Orders from the Guild." Hector looked at them. "They want us to clear this place of any Death Eaters, then return to the safe house."

"Then let's do it." O'Bannon marched forward, face scrunched in determination and anger. He wanted to find more damn Death Eaters and kick their asses. They threatened his kids, threw the Wizarding World into chaos, oppressed his friends in Britain.

_It's payback time, dickwads._

He glanced over his shoulder at his friends.

"Fan out, guys. Let's not make ourselves one big target. Art, cover our rear. Jared, left flank. Rosa, right fl-"

"_Avada Kedavra!"_

A flash of green light streaked toward them.

_**TO BE CONTINUED**_


	3. An Air Of Death

**CHAPTER 3: AN AIR OF DEATH**

* * *

"HECTOR!"

O'Bannon saw Artimus drop to his knees next to his brother.

_Oh God. Oh God, no._

Hector Rand lay on his back, his eyes staring blankly at the sunny sky.

"Hector!" Artimus shook his brother's shoulders. "Hector, please!"

Sharp, electric crackles pierced the air around O'Bannon. Multi-colored streaks of light flew from Rosa's and Jared's wands. The Death Eater flew off his feet and whipped through the air, smashing against one tree, then another, and another, and another. With a primal roar, Rosa snapped her wand down. The Death Eater slammed into the ground. He didn't move.

They all looked back at Artimus. He stared up at them, tears running down his cheeks, his eyes pleading with them to do something.

O'Bannon's throat constricted. There was nothing that could be done for anyone hit with an _Avada Kedavra._

Hector Rand was dead.

"Art . . . Artimus." Rosa knelt beside him, her eyes glistening. "I'm . . . I'm so sorry." Her jaw trembled as she put an arm around him.

"He can't . . . he was just talking . . ." Artimus practically hyperventilated as he stared at his brother's body. His face twisted in agony, tears spilling from his eyes. "What am I . . ." He drew a ragged breath and turned toward the motionless Death Eater. "Why! You son-of-a-bitch! You son-of-a-bitch!"

Rosa threw her arms around Artimus and pulled him against her. His body convulsed with sobs. Rosa closed her eyes, gently stroking the back of his head. Tears streamed down her cheeks.

O'Bannon's jaw hung open. His mind couldn't accept it. Hector Rand, dead. The one member of that whole damn family who treated Artimus decently. Hadn't Hector been telling them not more than two minutes ago that they needed to clear the YWWAAA of any remaining Death Eaters? How could he be dead just like that?

_The mission._ A voice inside his head whispered. _The mission._

How could he even think about any mission? The brother of one of his best friends was lying dead at his feet, for God's sake.

_You think any Death Eaters are gonna give a damn?_

_This is what leaders do._

He looked back at Artimus. No way could he take him back inside to look for Death Eaters. Neither could he ask him to Apparate back to the Bowling Green safe house. In his condition he'd likely splinch himself, leaving behind who knew how many body parts.

"Guys." Somehow he found his voice, barely. "We still have to check around for more Death Eaters."

Rosa's eyes snapped open. She appeared ready to rip into him. The intense look on her face slackened. He figured she knew he was right.

"Rosa, stay here with Art. Find some cover in case there are Death Eaters around. If you see any, send us a patronus. Jared, you're with me."

Jared nodded, his eyes darting to Hector's body.

The two sprinted toward the YWWAAA building. Rosa levitated Hector's body. Her free hand she put around Artimus' shoulder. He walked beside her on trembling legs.

Wands extended, O'Bannon and Jared entered the building.

The lobby was in shambles. Windows had been shattered. Chairs overturned or reduced to splinters. The curved front desk sported two large holes.

They moved cautiously through the corridors, checking offices and exercise rooms. Most of them had been trashed. In one of those rooms he spotted an image burned into the wall, a skull with a snake protruding from its mouth. A Dark Mark, the symbol for Voldemort and his Death Eaters.

He and Jared raised their wands and blew apart the section of the wall with the offensive image.

They continued on. So far they hadn't come across any Death Eaters.

They did, however, come across two bodies.

"Oh God." O'Bannon's jaw clenched. He lowered his head, his gaze still on the short, blond witch and stout dark-haired wizard lying on the corridor floor.

"You know them?" Jared asked in a hesitant tone.

O'Bannon nodded. "Tamara Nylander and Zachariah Zolomon. They coached our youth Quidditch leagues."

"Sorry, man."

His eyes lingered on the two bodies. How many other co-workers had been killed? People he saw and talked to every day. People who just taught sports and helped wizards and witches stay in shape. What possible threat could they pose to Death Eaters?

He closed his eyes and sighed. If anything positive came from his break-up with Talia Laribee months ago, it was the fact she moved back to her native Ohio weeks later.

_Thank God she's safe._

At least he hoped so. With attacks happening all over the country, how could anyone be safe?

He led Jared past the bodies and continued searching the building. A battle raged in his mind to keep focused on the task at hand. But he couldn't stop thinking about Hector. He worried about Talia. Oh my God! Mom and Dad! Could the Death Eaters also be attacking the Muggle World?

_Please be okay. Please be okay._

When they reached the fourth floor, they heard coughing and shuffling around the corner. Slowly, they took the steps, wands raised. When they reached the landing, O'Bannon pressed his back against the wall beside the steps, counted to three and spun around.

A tall, muscular man with receding brown hair stood in the middle of the corridor, his arm around a younger, dark-haired man with blood soaking his right leg.

"Mister Tubberwall!" O'Bannon hurried over to the Director of the Washington YWWAAA.

"Jimmy?" The older man's eyes lit up in surprise. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah. I'm fine. You?"

"Just got a bump on the head. Nothing as bad as Raymond here." Tubberwall shook his head. "I just can't believe it. Why would Death Eaters attack us?"

"Because they're murdering, scum-sucking bastards, that's why." Jared scowled.

Tubberwall canted his head, obviously not recognizing Jared. The man opened his mouth to speak.

O'Bannon beat him to it. "Mister Tubberwall. How's everyone else?"

The man sighed. "I saw . . . Merlin, I think there are six people dead. A lot of others are hurt. I don't know exactly how many. I sent word to the Nuhanamann Center for Magical Healing, and the Aurors Bureau. Why hasn't anyone come yet?"

"I think they're really busy right now. I heard there are Death Eater attacks going on all over the country."

Tubberwall's jaw fell open. "What? H-How . . . where did you hear that?"

"Um, Wizarding Wireless." He sure as hell couldn't tell him he learned it from a secret anti-Voldemort group.

"Any more stinkin' Death Eaters around?" Jared's scowl deepened.

"I don't know. We haven't seen any for a while."

O'Bannon turned to Jared. "We better keep checking. C'mon."

The two walked past Tubberwall and the injured Raymond.

"Jimmy! Jimmy, wait!" his boss called out. "Wait for the aurors to get here. You can't take on Death Eaters yourself."

"You'd be surprised at what I can and can't do."

He and Jared searched the rest of the floors. They discovered Mr. Gumwibben still cowering under his desk.

As for Death Eaters, they found no trace of them.

"Dammit." Jared's shoulders heaved in angry breaths. "I was hoping we'd find a couple of the S.O.B.s so we could kill 'em."

"Me too," O'Bannon growled, thinking of Hector.

They headed back outside, where they found Rosa and Artimus behind a clump of bushes with Hector's body.

"Building's clear of Death Eaters." O'Bannon's jaw quivered as he saw Rosa hold a sobbing Artimus.

"What do we do now?" asked Jared.

O'Bannon drew a deep breath. "We should probably get back to the safe house. See if the Guild wants us to do anything else."

Determined looks came over the faces of his friends. He felt his own face tighten in anger. After all the death and destruction of the past hour, more than anything he wanted to send more Death Eaters to hell. He prayed the Guild would oblige him.

Three sharp cracks split the air. Rosa side-along Apparated with Artimus, while O'Bannon did the same with Hector's body. Jared went solo. They all Disapparated in a dense forest. Sitting among the trees was a small rundown shack made of rotting brown wood. O'Bannon levitated Hector's body toward it. Rosa, Artimus and Jared followed.

The inside was much bigger, and much nicer looking, than the exterior. The foyer led to a simple living room with chairs, couches, a fireplace and old-fashioned oil-lamps. A twisty staircase sat to their left.

"Where are the kids?" O'Bannon asked.

"Mister Skyler took 'em to a den in the back," Jared replied.

"Who?"

"Mister Skyler. He's the guy in charge of the safe house."

O'Bannon nodded, then turned to Hector's floating corpse.

_What should I do with him?_

He thought for a few seconds, then headed upstairs. His three friends followed.

He entered the first bedroom he came to and gently lowered Hector's body on the old, thin mattress.

They stood by the bedside. He and Jared stared at the body. Rosa continued to hug Artimus.

"How could this happen?" he sobbed into her shoulder. "Oh Merlin, why is this happening?"

O'Bannon's throat clenched. His cheeks twitched. Sorrow surged through him, demanding to be released.

He fought it down. He was a leader. Leaders couldn't afford to break down, even at a time like this. He had to be strong, in control.

He and Jared stepped over to Artimus, both putting a hand on his shoulders.

"I'm so sorry, man." A tear slid down Jared's cheek.

O'Bannon chewed on his lip. He should say something. But what? What the hell do you say to someone whose brother had been killed right before his eyes? What words could he possibly come up with to console his friend?

"_It's going to be all right."_

"_You'll get through this."_

"_He's in a better place, now."_

They all sounded hollow, meaningless in the face of this tragedy.

Instead of speaking, he stood in silence. Rosa and Jared also didn't say a word. The only sound in the room was Artimus' crying.

O'Bannon had no idea how much time passed before Rosa whispered to him, "Jimmy. Go check on those kids."

"You sure?" Looking at his Artimus shudder with sobs, he felt reluctant to leave him.

"We've got Art. I'm sure those kids are scared and confused right now. They need someone they trust right now."

He looked from her to Jared, who nodded. With a quick nod of his own, he exited the room and headed downstairs.

"Hey!" A scrawny old man with white stubble covering his cheeks, and wearing tattered robes, stood at the bottom of the stairs, glaring at him. "You that O'Bannon guy?"

"Yeah. You Mister Skyler?"

"Yeah," he growled.

O'Bannon cranked an eyebrow, wondering what crawled up this guy's ass and died. "There a problem?"

Skyler snorted a humorless laugh. "A problem? Yeah, you could say that. I've got eighteen kids stuffed into the back den, crying and whining for their mommies and daddies and bugging me about when they're gonna go home."

"Cut 'em some slack," he snapped. "They've been through a lot."

"Look, this isn't a damn nursery. This is a safe house for the Guild of the Light. I can't have those kids here forever."

"It's only temporary, so chill out." O'Bannon shook his head, wondering if this Skyler asshole was always this miserable.

_Maybe that's why the Guild stuck him out here in the boondocks._

"Well what am I supposed to do while they're here?" Skyler threw up his hands.

"I don't know. How about feed 'em? Make 'em some soup or something."

"Soup for nearly twenty kids? Do I look like a tavern owner?"

"Just do it." O'Bannon scowled as he walked past him. "I'll go check on 'em."

"Be my guest," Skyler grumbled. "I'm tired of hearing them cry. Merlin's Beard, those brats are annoying."

O'Bannon stopped, his entire body shaking in anger. He thought back to the Death Eater who threatened the kids. Who the hell knew what that psychotic bastard would have done to them? They'd survived a battle that ruined the YWWAAA, and this callous old bastard was complaining about them crying?

He whirled around and stomped over to Skyler. The wizard turned to him just as O'Bannon grabbed the old man's lapels and shoved him against the wall.

"Look!" O'Bannon's face twisted in fury. "Those kids were almost killed by Death Eaters today. A lot of other people _were _killed by Death Eaters today, including friends of mine. If anyone wants to cry about that, then let 'em! And if you don't like it, keep it to your damn self!"

He released Skyler and stormed off. He went through the living room and entered a small hallway. The den lay at the end of it. He could hear crying coming from behind the closed door.

O'Bannon stopped halfway to the door, closing his eyes and taking deep breaths. He had to rid himself of all anger before he went in there. He had to appear in control, sound reassuring when he spoke to the kids.

Disgust slithered through him. He thought about how he manhandled Skyler.

_Dude, the guy's old enough to be your grandfather._

_So what? He was being an asshole._

He tried to shake it off. It had been an intense last hour that included the death of his friend's brother, and Skyler just happened to push the wrong button on him.

With one last, cleansing breath, he crossed the rest of the hallway and entered the den.

A flurry of questions bombarded him. A dozen separate voices merged into an unintelligible babble.

O'Bannon raised his hands, pleading for quiet.

The kids kept talking.

"Settle down. Settle down!"

The kids quieted down.

"Okay. Now one at a time, and raise your hands."

Several hands shot into the air.

"Yeah, Jonah?"

"When are we gonna go home?"

O'Bannon's jaw stiffened for a moment. "All right, I'm not gonna lie to you. There are a lot of bad things going on out there. The Death Eaters are attacking all over the country."

Several gasps and sobs went up from the children.

"Are my mommy and daddy okay?" asked seven-year-old Willie Zobrist.

"I'm sure they are, Willie." _I hope._

"How long are we gonna have to stay here?" This from a dark-haired, unsmiling ten-year-old. Vance Hochavar, the biggest complainer of the group.

"I don't know. It's dangerous out there. Hopefully we'll have you all back home soon."

"Will the bad people find us here?" asked a cute little blond girl with pigtails; seven-year-old Holly Juniper.

"No they won't. We're far away from all the fighting. You're safe here.

"I'm hungry," whined a chubby little blond boy; six-year-old Brendon Heinz.

"The guy who owns this place is making some soup for all of you." _At least he better be. _"It should be ready soon."

O'Bannon took a breath before continuing. "I know this has been a real scary day for you guys. But you're all safe here. My friends and I are all first-class duelers, so if anyone does come here, they're gonna have to get past us . . . and no way is that gonna happen. Okay?"

The kids nodded, though a few sniffled.

"Good." His eyes sought out two kids in particular. "Daedalus. Kyon. I have to . . ." He stopped himself from saying he wanted to get back upstairs and be with Artimus and the others.

_Yeah. Like I was really a help up there before._

Still, they were his team, and one of them was grieving the loss of his brother. He had to be with them. But he didn't want to let these kids know about Hector Rand right now. They had enough to deal with as is.

"I have to . . . check on some things. I'm leaving you guys in charge here. Um, get some games going."

"Like what?" Daedalus shrugged.

"Um . . . I don't know. Anything that comes to mind. Or go ask Mister Skyler for some parchment and pens and pencils and draw something."

"I don't know about that," said Kyon. "That Mister Skyler doesn't seem like a nice man."

"If he gives you any cr . . . um, trouble, come get me, and I'll straighten him out, got it?"

They both nodded.

"Good. Now go get those parchment and pens. Okay?"

Again the two older kids nodded and headed out of the den. O'Bannon followed a few steps behind them, sighing to himself. Hopefully, drawing will keep them occupied, take their minds off all the insanity going on.

He just got to the staircase when the front door flew open. He went for his wand, then halted when he recognized the four people who entered the safe house.

"Jimmy," said a stocky woman with short dark hair. "Thank Merlin you're here."

"Mrs. Diaz." Hope soared inside him as Jared's mother, Liana Diaz, walked toward him. Behind her were her husband, Irving, and Rosa's parents, Cesario and Adelaide Infante. "How's everything out there? Are we beating the Death Eaters?"

Mrs. Diaz's jaw stiffened.

A chill shot up O'Bannon's spine. He swallowed, fearing whatever news Jared's mother had to share.

"Are our children here?" asked the tall, stout, bearded Cesario Infante. "And the Rand boys?"

"Yeah." He was about to tell them about Hector when Mrs. Diaz cut him off.

"Good. Let's get everyone in the kitchen. We have some important things to talk about."

_**TO BE CONTINUED**_


	4. Guardians

**CHAPTER 4: GUARDIANS**

* * *

A solemn air hung over the kitchen table as the quartet, the Diazes and the Infantes took their seats. O'Bannon's gaze drifted to Artimus, who sat between Rosa and her mother. Both women had a hand on his shoulders. Artimus, however, didn't seem to notice. He just stared at the scratched up wooden table, tear streaks visible on his cheeks.

Mrs. Diaz drew an audible breath. She folded her hands on the table and leaned forward. "Were it up to me, I would allow us time to grieve for Hector. Again, Artimus, I'm so sorry for your loss. We all are. Your brother was a fine young man. A credit to the Guild of the Light. You should be proud of him."

"Thank you, Mrs. Diaz," Artimus mumbled in a shaky voice. Mrs. Infante's lips tightened as she rubbed his shoulder.

"Unfortunately," Mrs. Diaz continued. "The Death Eaters won't allow us the opportunity to mourn our losses."

"What's going on with those crap-sucking bastards, Mom?" Anger lines etched into Jared's face. "Tell me we're killing 'em."

Mrs. Diaz let out a long sigh. "I wish I could say that. According to our latest reports, they're gaining the upper hand over us."

A cold ball of lead formed in O'Bannon's stomach. His legs trembled. _We're losing?_

"What's the latest?" asked Rosa.

Mr. Infante's face fell. "From the looks of it, the Death Eaters concentrated most of their attacks on wizarding government facilities. We've lost some regional governors and some deputy secretaries in the Department of Magic."

"What about the Secretary of Magic himself?" O'Bannon inquired.

"The Aurors Bureau managed to evacuate him and a few other officials during the attack on the Department of Magic. They took him to a secure location somewhere in the Great Lakes Region."

"What about the Aurors Bureau?" Rosa glanced between her aunt and her parents. "I'm sure they gotta be kicking major ass."

The Infantes and Diazes looked at one another, each one with the same crestfallen expression. Mrs. Infante closed her eyes, then turned back to her daughter. "The Aurors Bureau is in disarray."

"What!" Rosa blurted. "How is that possible?"

"The Death Eaters had it well planned." Mr. Infante's eyes narrowed. "They staged a bunch of fake disturbances for aurors to investigate. When they got there, they were ambushed. From what we can gather, the aurors' barracks in Rhode Island and Vermont have been completely wiped out. The barracks in West Virginia and South Dakota also lost most of their wizards and witches."

O'Bannon couldn't breathe. How many aurors had they lost? Crap, those people were the protectors of this world. If the Death Eaters took out the entire Aurors Bureau . . .

"That's not all." Mr. Diaz scanned everyone at the table. "You-Know-Who's gang let loose all sorts of monsters on wizarding communities. Werewolves, giants, Wendigos, you name it. My team just drove off a horde of Dementors attacking Haypippil Square before we came over here." The team the thick, balding wizard referred to was SMACRAT, the Special Magical Creature Action Team, which he led.

He wrung his hand before continuing. "I lost one of my men to a damn Dementor's kiss."

O'Bannon shivered. He remembered learning about the Dementor's kiss in his Defense Against the Dark Arts class at Salem. It didn't kill you. It did worse. It sucked out your soul, leaving the victim nothing more than a living husk of flesh.

Mrs. Diaz reached out and held her husband's hands. He scowled as he spoke. "I also have two other members of my team missing. I think the Death Eaters may have gotten them. It only makes sense to try and eliminate us. There's no team better than mine in the country at dealing with dangerous magical creatures."

"What about the Muggle World?" Fear clenched O'Bannon's insides. He fought to get his next words out, terrified of the answer. "What . . . what about my parents?"

"So far, You-Know-Who's forces have limited their attacks to our world," Mrs. Diaz stated. "Though I believe it's only a matter of time before they go after Muggles with a vengeance, starting, no doubt, with the parents of Muggle-borns."

"Then we gotta do something to protect my parents!" O'Bannon slammed a hand on the table.

"That's already been taken care of, Jimmy." Mr. Infante held up his hands to calm him. "The Guild and some of our allies in the Department of Magic have already implemented our plans to evacuate the parents of Muggle-borns. Many of them are being sent to small towns throughout the interior of Canada. They should be fine there. Canada's relatively quiet, for now, and You-Know-Who's gang up there pretty much sticks to the eastern and western sections of the country. Your parents were among the first we evacuated."

O'Bannon leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes and breathed a sigh of relief. His parents were safe. Thank God.

"Thank you. Thank you so much."

"Jimmy," Mrs. Infante said in a soft tone. "You know we're happy to do anything for you and your family."

"Not only that," Mr. Diaz jumped in, "but according to one of our spies among the Death Eaters, you're high up on their most wanted list. You and the children in your hockey class."

O'Bannon opened his eyes and stared at Mr. Diaz. "To be honest, I kinda had a feeling that's why they attacked the YWW-triple-A. Let me guess, in their warped minds, I'm polluting the purity of the Wizarding World."

"Exactly. According to our spy, the Death Eaters have drawn up a list of high-profile Muggle-borns they either want captured or killed. You made a lot of headlines both here and in Britain when you put together that hockey game at Hogwarts three years ago. Now that you're teaching hockey at the YWW-triple-A, well, you can see why they'd want you."

"Not just you." Mrs. Infante turned at him. "They also have Muggle-born Quidditch players, reporters, writers, teachers, singers, aurors and government officials on their so-called most wanted list."

"What about the kids in my class?"

The skin between Mrs. Infante's thin eyebrows crinkled. "The Death Eaters want to take them alive so they can be 're-educated.'"

"Hah!" Jared scoffed. "Re-educated. Yeah, you know what they mean by that, Aunt Adelaide. Cruciatus Curses and Fire Rash Curses and being thrown into a tub of Kirpalas until they buy into all that pureblood supremacist crap."

"You're right on the money with that. And it's not just those kids, but half-bloods and purebloods who played for the hockey league at Salem, wizarding bands and singers who've been influenced by Muggle music, Muggle Studies teachers and anyone working for the Office of Wizarding-Muggle Relations."

"The Wizarding World's version of the Final Solution." O'Bannon sneered and made a fist. His arm shook. He wanted to run out of here and fight more Death Eaters, and keep fighting them until every last friggin' one was dead.

"What about the rest of the world?" asked Rosa. "I mean, we know You-Know-Who's in control of England. What about other countries?"

"Mireet's been keeping us up-to-date on that," answered Mrs. Diaz. "The way we understand it, what happened in Britain was more of a silent coup. You-Know-Who still hasn't come out in public and declared himself ruler of Wizarding England. But make no mistake, he is in control over there. Of course, with all the supporters he had throughout their Ministry, it was probably easy to overthrow the government."

"I don't get it." O'Bannon folded his arms. "Those dirtbags go all covert to take over England, but here they launch a full-scale attack? What's up with that?"

Mrs. Diaz chewed on her lip for a moment. "A few months after You-Know-Who's return became public, the International Confederation of Wizards held a secret meeting on Victoria Island in Canada. It was there they came up with the Enceladus Protocol."

Rosa's brow furrowed. "What's that?"

"The witches and wizards at the meeting assumed any conquest of the Wizarding World by You-Know-Who would begin in England, since that's his native country. So it was decided that should England fall, the other Wizarding governments would contribute forces to an international army to liberate the country."

Mrs. Diaz's lips twisted before she continued. "Apparently, word of this must have got back to You-Know-Who. We have reports of open revolts by Death Eaters in China, India, Brazil, Russia, Japan, Indonesia and Mexico, countries with some of the highest wizarding populations in the world."

Rosa sighed and hung her head. "So I guess that means those countries are a little too pre-occupied to send any forces to England."

"Yes, unfortunately." Mr. Infante stared unsmiling at the table.

"It's doubtful the other, smaller countries will pool what resources they have and invade England," said Mrs. Diaz. "Some probably feel they wouldn't have a chance if the larger nations can't contribute to an international army. Others are probably worried Death Eater revolts could happen in their country, and want all their security forces on hand just in case."

"Aw, jeez!" Jared's elbows thumped on the table. He pressed his hands against his head. "Can this get any worse?"

O'Bannon leaned forward, crossing his arms on the table. He lowered his head. Cold pinpricks of dread marched up and down his body. Ever since Professor Dumbledore's death weeks ago, he had a sense something really, really bad was going to happen. But he never imagined something like this. The whole Wizarding World was in chaos. Institutions he'd taken for granted for years had collapsed. Death Eaters murdered innocents at will.

And the most powerful dark wizard in history ruled over the United Kingdom.

He closed his eyes, sending prayers to his friends three thousand miles across the ocean, wishing more than anything he could be part of the proposed international wizarding army to help them.

But there would be no international army.

His British friends would have to fight You-Know-Who on their own.

He sighed and looked at his friends. Jared and Rosa hung their heads. They were probably just as worried about the Brits as him. Artimus too, he imagined, though he just stared blankly at the table. His three friends had become close to the Weasleys and Tonks and Harry Potter after everything they'd been through together with the Longathian Tunnel and the mutated Chupacabra. Rosa especially, considering she and George Weasley had fallen in love their last time in Britain.

"I'm sorry," Mrs. Infante spoke in a soft tone. "I know how much your friends in England mean to all of you. I wish we could do something to help them. But we won't be able to help the British until we take care of the Death Eaters in our country."

"So when do we start kicking their asses?" Anger and determination spread across Rosa's face.

Mrs. Diaz sighed. "That could take a while. After everything that's happened today, we need to re-evaluate and reconstitute our forces before we plan any major offensives. For now, we're pretty much on the defensive."

"What do you want us to do?" O'Bannon sat up straighter.

Mrs. Diaz glanced at her husband and the Infantes before turning back to him. "I know all of you are anxious to fight, especially after what happened . . . what happened to Hector."

Artimus shivered and hugged himself. Rosa grasped his shoulder.

"But right now," Mrs. Diaz continued. "I think the most important role you can perform is that of guardians."

"Huh?" Jared canted his head.

"The children in Jimmy's hockey class. We need you to be their guardians."

"Are you serious, Mom?" Jared gazed at her with a bewildered expression. "We've got Death Eaters killing people all over the country, all over _the world, _and you want us to be babysitters?"

"I gotta go with Jared." O'Bannon jerked a thumb in his friend's direction. "I mean, can't their parents take care of them?"  
"The Death Eaters have specifically targeted these children because of their association with a Muggle game. In their eyes, that makes them corrupted. Most of their parents don't have the necessary skills to protect them should any Death Eaters come to their home. We can't allow these children to fall into the hands of You-Know-Who's murdering scum. Not only that, but some of the children could be used as leverage, given who their parents are."

"What'd ya mean?" asked Jared.

O'Bannon turned to him. "Some of the kids in my class have parents who hold pretty important jobs at the Department of Magic. Kyon Yoon-Ku's mother works as an administrator for the Floo Network. Brendon Heinz's dad is a Curse-Breaker for the Bureau for the Safekeeping of Ancient Magical Artifacts, and Vance Hochaver's dad is the Mid-Atlantic Region's representative on the Continental Wizarding Legislature."

"All critical positions," said Mrs. Diaz. "If the Death Eaters manage to capture those particular children, who knows what they'll force their parents to do to aid their cause."

"So you want us to hole up here and watch Jimmy's kids?" Jared inquired.

"No." Mrs. Diaz shook her head. "Not here."

"Why not, Mom? This place is so far out in the boondocks they have to pipe in sunshine. Ain't no way a Death Eater's gonna stumble across us out here."

"We already have several Guild members who are missing, some with knowledge of where many of our safe houses are located. We don't know if they've been killed or captured, but we have to work on the assumption that some of them were captured, and either have or soon will give up the location of our safe houses. Therefore, we have to abandon this place."

"So where are we supposed to take the kids?" asked O'Bannon.

"We think we've come up with a good place." Mrs. Diaz drew a breath before continuing. "The Appalachian Mountains. It's vast, heavily forested, isolated in many areas. It's a perfect hiding place."

She leaned forward, her eyes sweeping over the quartet. "We need you four to take those children there, and keep them hidden and safe until we've defeated the Death Eaters."

_**TO BE CONTINUED**_


	5. A Fairy Tale World

**CHAPTER 5: A FAIRY TALE WORLD**

* * *

"Man, I hope we're cut out for this."

Jimmy O'Bannon looked up from the dresser drawer when he heard Jared's voice. He turned and saw his friend staring into the closet of one of the safe house's six bedrooms.

"I think after everything we've been through, we're more than capable of being bodyguards for these kids."

Jared spun around to face him. "You think that's all we're gonna be? Bodyguards?"

O'Bannon crinkled his forehead, not sure what Jared meant.

"Dude, we're gonna have eighteen kids with us. Most of them aren't even old enough to use a wand. Heck, who knows if some of them have even spent a night away from home. We don't know how long we're gonna stay in the Appalachians. Weeks? Months? _Years?" _Jared winced after saying that last word. "We're gonna have to be more than bodyguards. We're gonna have to be, like, their parents."

The air stuck in O'Bannon's chest. He tried to digest Jared's words. _Be, like, their parents._

"We're eighteen, man." Jared leaned against the doorframe of the closet. "What the hell do we know about taking care of kids? Will we still have to tuck in some of them and read 'em stories or something? If they misbehave, what do we do? Can we spank 'em? I don't know about you, but I don't feel right spanking someone else's kid. Or what if one of 'em wets themselves or has a nightmare or can't stop crying? How do we deal with that?"

O'Bannon bit his lower lip. He hadn't even considered any of that.

Worry swirled inside him. Could he care for so many children?

_I coach 'em in hockey. That's kinda like taking care of them._

But could he really use that as a comparison? He only had these kids for four hours a week. All he did was teach them how to play hockey. Okay, he also tried to teach them other stuff like teamwork, good sportsmanship, respecting Muggle culture. If one of them got hurt, he walked them down to the nurse's office, reassuring them everything would be all right.

But again, he only had them for a few hours a week. He didn't have to care for them 24/7.

He looked back up at Jared. "We'll just deal with it. We don't have much choice, do we?"

"Guess not." Frowning, Jared turned back to the closet.

O'Bannon also frowned. Times like this he would expect Jared to make some smart-ass comment. He'd always been the one to keep their group loose with jokes and snappy comebacks, even in the most serious of times.

But how could anyone make jokes today? The bad guys were winning. The country, the entire world, was in chaos.

And one of their own had lost a brother.

They plucked blankets from the closet and flannel shirts from the drawer and placed them in a magical knapsack, which was bigger on the inside than the outside. The two stuffed their bundles into it. After raiding all the closets and drawers in the safe house, it appeared they would have enough blankets and warm clothes for everyone, though the clothes might be too big for many of the children.

_But it'll keep them warm if we're still in the mountains during the winter. That's all that matters._

O'Bannon grabbed the knapsack and headed downstairs with Jared behind him. They found Rosa, Mr. Infante and Mr. Skyler loading another knapsack with food. Skyler gave him a rather nervous look.

"How are we set for food?"

Mr. Infante looked up at him, a big loaf of bread in his hands. "We've pretty much cleaned out the cupboards and ice box, but with all those mouths to feed, this will probably last two days at the most. Maybe three."

"Then what? We eat tree bark and squirrels?" That would have sounded like a joke from Jared, had it not been for the edge in his voice.

"Don't worry. As soon as we're done here, we'll come up with a way to get you supplies on a regular basis."

The tension in O'Bannon's muscles unwound a bit, glad to know Rosa's and Jared's parents would work to keep them all fed.

Mrs. Diaz entered the kitchen, followed by her husband, Mrs. Infante and Artimus.

"I think we've got everything packed. It's time we start Apparating the children."

O'Bannon swallowed. The finality of the situation consumed him. He and his friends were going into the mountains with eighteen kids, for who knew how long.

A shiver went down his spine. What if You-Know-Who's forces won? Would they have to spend years, decades in the mountains? Would they be hunted down?

_Don't think that way. We're gonna win._

That did nothing to dispel his worries.

"Let's go get 'em," he muttered, heading toward the den.

He opened the door to find the children drawing. All pencils and pens stopped immediately when he entered. Eighteen expectant faces locked on him.

_Game face. Game face. Look confident._

He drew a breath and spoke. "All right, gang. I've got some news for you."

"Are we going home?" asked a girl with short red hair and chipmunk cheeks; eight-year-old Crea Cardwell.

O'Bannon closed his eyes for a moment. "No. I'm sorry."

Shocked and worried chatter went up from many of the children. So did a sob or two.

"Look." He held up his hands. "I'm sorry. I really am. We really wanted to get you guys home as soon as possible, but . . . things are really bad out there. The Death Eaters . . . well, they're all over the place, hurting a lot of people."

"What about the Aurors Bureau?" Vance blurted. "Shouldn't they be stopping them?"

The corner of O'Bannon's mouth curled. He didn't like the way Vance asked that question. "They're trying. But right now, things aren't going their way."

Vance shook his head, a look of disgust on his face.

"The truth is . . ." O'Bannon drew a deep breath. _How do I say this without scaring them?_

He cleared his throat, hoping to buy some time to come up with the right words.

No right words came to mind.

"The truth is, the Death Eaters are after anyone who's taken part in Muggle activities, like you guys."

Holly visibly trembled. Jillian buried her face into her brother, Jonas', shoulder. Deanna hugged her knees to her chest.

"They . . ." Willie spoke in a shaky voice. "They want to kill us?"

"That's not gonna happen," O'Bannon said emphatically. "Me and my friends are going to make sure of that."

He glanced over his shoulder. Jared and Rosa both nodded. Artimus stood behind Mr. Diaz, head hung low.

"But in order to keep you safe," he continued, "we have to take you away from here. Somewhere far away."

"My mommy and daddy told me I shouldn't go places with strangers." Holly looked at the Diazes and the Infantes.

"They're right, Holly. You shouldn't. But things are different right now. And I told you guys back at the YWW-triple-A. These people here are my best friends in the world. They're like family to me. And we've fought You-Know-Who's bunch long before today."

Several young eyes went wide.

"Really?" Vance folded his arms and canted his head.

"Yes, Vance. Really."

"So where are you taking us?" asked Daedalus.

"We're going to the mountains. The Appalachians to be exact."

"The mountains?" Kyon's face went pale.

Deanna looked paralyzed with fear. She came from Washington D.C.'s inner city. The closest she'd probably ever been to the wilderness was a city park.

"Mountains. Cool." The squat, curly-haired nine-year-old Madson Yarroway actually looked excited.

"How long will we have to stay up there?"

"I don't know, Crea." O'Bannon shook his head. "We might be there for a long time."

Vance gasped. "Well what are we supposed to eat? Where are we going to sleep? Where are we going to go to the bathroom?"

O'Bannon's lips tightened. Vance Hochaver had grown up in very rich, very comfortable surroundings. He figured this kid would piss moan more than anyone about having to live in the wilderness for an extended period.

_I just know this kid's gonna test my patience._

"We're going to take care of that. This isn't gonna be easy for any of us. We're all gonna have to do without a lot of things we're used to. But believe me when I tell you that this is our only option to keep you safe from the Death Eaters."

None of the children spoke, each one apparently lost in his or her own thoughts.

"Okay. Everyone up. We're gonna Apparate you to the mountains."

A few of the kids scrambled to their feet, excited at the prospect of Apparating for the first time. A few others stood hesitantly, especially Deanna.

They headed outside past the Anti-Apparation barrier surrounding the safe house. Mr. and Mrs. Infante stood guard while the others Apparated the first batch of children to the Appalachians. They ended up in a small clearing with lush, green trees around them. Several dark purple mountains could be seen in the distance.

"That was cool!" Willie jumped up and down excitedly.

"I wanna do it again!" said Madson.

O'Bannon smiled at them and took up a guard position with Artimus while Rosa, Jared, the Diazes and Mr. Skyler Apparated the rest of the children here. The Infantes also joined them for the second trip.

"I'm heading back," Skyler told them. "I need to burn down to the safe house, then get to my rally point."

The old wizard Apparated away without so much as a good-bye or wishing them good luck.

_Un-friggin'-believable._ O'Bannon shook his head. He turned away from the spot where Skyler had vanished . . .

His entire body stiffened at the sight before him. Both Rosa and Jared, and their parents, stared at one another. He expected someone to say something. Instead silence hung between them.

He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. As close as he was to the Infantes and Diazes, he felt he was intruding on a very personal moment.

"I . . ." Mrs. Diaz's voice cracked slightly. "You take care of yourselves. Take care of these children."

"We will," Rosa whispered, her jaw quivering. The veins in Jared's neck stuck out. O'Bannon swore his friend's eyes glistened.

"I wish . . . I wish this wasn't . . ." Mrs. Infante wiped a tear from her eye. She nearly lunged at Rosa and wrapped her in a hug. Mr. Infante just as quickly came over and took both of them in his arms. The Diazes also pulled Jared into a group hug.

"My boy." Mrs. Diaz kissed her son's head. "My precious boy."

O'Bannon knew any other time Jared would gag at a statement like that.

This wasn't any other time.

"Be careful," Rosa said to her parents. "Please be careful. I don't want to lose you."

"We will, honey." Mr. Infante kissed his daughter on the cheek.

"We love you." Mrs. Infante cupped Rosa's cheeks. "We love you so much."

They switched off. The Diazes hugged Rosa and the Infantes hugged Jared.

"I remember when you and Rosa were seven." Mrs. Infante held her nephew tighter. "You'd play near the woods, and I'd always watch you from the back porch, making sure you were safe. I wish I could do that now."

"We're going to win, sweetie," Mrs. Diaz told her niece. "We're going to win, we're going to come get you all, and . . . and I'm going to watch you graduate from auror training."

Rosa pressed her head against Mrs. Diaz's shoulder. "I love you, Aunt Liana, Uncle Irving."

A tear almost escaped O'Bannon's eye . . . almost. He clenched his teeth and fought it off. A leader couldn't cry in front of his people. That would just shatter their confidence in him.

The Diazes then came over to him and hugged him. So did the Infantes.

"I couldn't have asked for a better friend for my daughter and nephew than you, Jimmy." Mrs. Infante didn't bother to wipe the tears running down her cheek. She gave him a shaky smile and kissed his cheek. "I know you'll take care of each other."

"I don't think we've said this enough." Mr. Diaz clamped a big hand on his shoulder. "You're family to us, Jimmy. You always have been."

Mr. Infante nodded while Mrs. Diaz said, "Take care of yourself."

"You too." He didn't trust his voice enough to say anything else.

The Diazes and Infantes then went over to Artimus, giving him prolonged hugs.

"We'll see to it Hector gets a proper burial," Mr. Infante told him.

"Thank you. Really, thank you."

"You're family, too." Mrs. Diaz kissed his cheek. "You'll be fine, honey. You really will."

Artimus nodded, convulsing with sobs.

The Diazes and Infantes cast Locator Charms on the quartet and the children so they could contact them when necessary. There were more good-byes, more, "take cares," more "I love yous."

Then the Diazes and Infantes disappeared with four distinct cracks.

O'Bannon shivered. He couldn't breathe. Reality washed over him with the force of a tsunami.

They were on their own.

He spotted Jared and Rosa wrapping their arms around each other's shoulders. The cousins beckoned him and Artimus over. He had no idea how long they stood in this silent group hug. Eventually, the responsible part of O'Bannon's brain kicked in. They couldn't cling to this emotional farewell any longer. They had a job to do.

"Come on. Let's get moving."

**XXXXX**

They hiked for over an hour through the thick forests. The going was slow, as some of the kids had trouble keeping up. O'Bannon, walking point, constantly looked over his shoulder, doing quick counts of all the kids. Even with Locator Charms on them, he still feared one of them might wander off. He'd told the kids not to do that, then remembered all the times when he was six or seven or eight and hadn't listened to his parents.

_Maybe they'll listen now since things are so serious._

_I hope._

He halted the group on the top of a small hill covered by numerous shade trees. It would be dark soon and they were deep in the woods. They ought to be safe here.

Rosa set up security wards and charms around their encampment. O'Bannon and Jared used their wands to manipulate the trees to form a large, leafy canvass over them. Artimus collected wood to make a cooking fire. Dinner wouldn't be anything fancy. O'Bannon removed an old cauldron they took from the safe house and filled it with water from his wand. Rosa and Jared cut up pieces of chicken, beef and vegetables and dropped them into the cauldron, which they levitated over the camp fire. Mrs. Infante had told them to use the meat right away. Anti-Spoiling Charms didn't last forever.

"Shouldn't we stir it or something?" asked Jared.

"Probably." Rosa nodded. She rummaged through one of the knapsacks, snorted, then went through another.

"Oh, you gotta be kidding me."

"What?" O'Bannon stared at her with a perplexed look.

The skin around her nose crinkled. "Nobody remembered to pack any utensils? Or bowls or plates?"

O'Bannon closed his eyes and groaned. Crap! They'd been so concerned with gathering food and clothes and medicinal potions they forgot about things as trivial as spoons and forks.

"Good thing we're wizards, then," Jared muttered without a trace of his usual humor. He pulled out his wand, got to his feet, and collected sticks and rocks he found on the ground. Within minutes he transfigured them into bowls and spoons.

The stew tasted . . . well, okay. Kinda. Actually, the vegetables and meats came out soggy and had very little flavor.

"This is disgusting." Vance scrunched his face as he glared at his bowl.

"Look around, Vance." Daedalus waved his arm around the woods. "Does it look like there are any servant elves around to make you dinner?"

Vance shot the older boy a nasty look, then turned to O'Bannon. "You're an adult. Don't you know how to cook?"

He growled under his breath as he locked his gaze on the snotty boy. "Under the circumstances, it's the best we can do."

Jillian grimaced as she stuck a spoonful of the stew in her mouth. So did Deanna, Brendon, Willie Zobrist and . . . hell, practically _all _the kids grimaced.

"This is yucky." Jillian set her bowl down.

"I know it's yucky." Rosa gave her a sympathetic smile. "But it's all we have right now. And if you don't eat, you'll get really, really weak."

Jillian's face scrunched up as she switched her gaze between her "yucky" stew and Rosa.

"Jillian, eat." O'Bannon emphasized the point by jamming a spoonful into his mouth, trying to keep from showing any outward signs of disgust. "That goes for the rest of you. We can't afford to waste any food while we're up here."

Jillian and many of the others looked at their bowls with hesitant expressions.

He was about to tell them to eat again, much more forcefully this time, when Rosa spoke up. "Look, I'll make you a promise. You all know Sillberry's Succulent Sweets in Haypippil Square?"

Most of the children nodded.

"Well, if you eat all your food, no matter how bad it might be, tonight, and for all the other days we're up here, when we get back to civilization, I'll take every single one of you there. You can gorge yourselves on cakes and pies and candy and ice cream. My treat."

Eyes bulged. Gasps of awe went up from the children. Within seconds they dug into their stew, eating it like it was something made by Mrs. Weasley over in Britain.

_Man, do I miss her cooking right now._

He glanced at Rosa, mouthing a silent, "Thanks." She nodded and smiled at him.

The stew may not have tasted good, but it filled their stomachs. When darkness fell the quartet doled out blankets to the children, along with flannel shirts. The air had become a bit cooler. Not to the point they needed to worry about hypothermia. They wouldn't have to worry about that for a few more months.

"We're going to sleep here tonight?" Deanna glanced nervously around the woods.

"Yeah." O'Bannon nodded.

"But aren't there, like, bears and stuff around here?" Deanna looked around, as if she expected a bear to suddenly pop out of the woods.

"Not just bears." Kyon came over to them, a worried look on her face. "But there are still a few giants in these mountains. And trolls and dark faeries and demonicors." The last ones were creatures that resembled a cross between a goat and a reptile with sharp talons and huge bat-like wings. They'd occasionally been sighted in the Muggle World, where they'd been identified as the Jersey Devil or the Mothman.

O'Bannon chewed on his lower lip for a few seconds. "Yeah. There are creatures like that out here. But we've got all kinds of wards set up that'll drive 'em off. And me and my friends . . . well, let's just say we've gone up against things a heck of a lot worse than trolls and demonicors."

He reached out and placed his hands on Kyon's and Deanna's shoulders. "Hey. I know the woods look like a scary place, but lots of people, wizards and Muggles, come out here to hike and camp all the time and nothing bad happens to them. You'll both be fine. We'll make sure of that. Okay?"

The two girls nodded, but looked as though this was the last place they wanted to be.

_Like any of us really want to be here._

Kyon and Deanna walked off together, almost shoulder-to-shoulder. They spread their blankets on the ground close to Crea and nine-year-old Maria Rosales. Safety in numbers, he suspected.

Even with all the wards up, O'Bannon set up a sentry schedule. Rosa volunteered for the first watch. Jared and Artimus laid down on their blankets while he wandered amongst the children, checking on each one. Some of them, like Daedalus and Madson, had fallen asleep. Kyon and Deanna lay on their blankets, eyes wide open, scanning the dark woods around them. Vance tossed and turned trying to get comfortable, muttering about his scratchy blanket. Jillian curled up next to her brother, who draped a protective arm around her.

He'd just passed a dozing Willie Zobrist when he heard a muffled sob nearby. He stepped softly toward the child, who had the blanket wrapped tightly around . . . himself? No. It was a her. A her with pigtails.

Holly Juniper.

He knelt beside the girl, who held her tiny fists against her mouth. Her body convulsed with a sob.

"Hey, Holly? You okay?"

"I'm . . . scared," she sniffled.

"I know. But look, it's gonna be okay. You're safe here."

Instead of being comforted, Holly cried more. "I miss Mommy and Daddy. I wanna go home." Her voice nearly squeaked as she cried.

O'Bannon's neck muscles tightened. It was one thing to deal with a kid who cried after taking a nasty spill on the ice. But what could he do with kid crying because she missed her parents?

"Um . . . don't worry. It's gonna be okay."

Holly kept crying.

O'Bannon groaned to himself. He closed his eyes, trying to remember what his parents did when he was Holly's age and he cried.

_Did I even cry when I was seven? _

If he had, he'd be damned if he could remember.

"Really, Holly. Things are gonna be okay. Just try to get some sleep. You'll feel better in the morning."

"I don't wanna sleep. I wish Mommy and Daddy were here. They read me stories when I can't fall asleep."

"Oh . . . aaah . . ." O'Bannon looked away for a second. Jared had been right. They would have to be like parents to these children.

And what the hell did he know about being a parent?

"Do you know any stories, Coach Jimmy?" Holly sniffled.

"Stories? Uh, well . . ." He racked his brains, thinking of all the books and movies he'd seen as a child. He considered _Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs _and _Green Eggs and Ham._ But it had been so long since he'd seen that movie or read that book. He sure as hell had neither committed to memory. _The Wizard of Oz_ maybe? No. Even as a kid he hated that movie. He never bought into the idea of a Cowardly Lion, the Munchkins annoyed the crap out of him and the flying monkeys looked so stupid. Besides, no way would a pureblood girl buy something as ridiculous as using water to melt a witch.

Then an idea hit him.

"You wait right here, Holly. I'll be right back."

The girl let out a half-sob, half-gasp as he got to his feet and strode through the encampment. He spotted Rosa standing by a fat bush, staring out beyond their hill. If anyone could tell Holly a story, it would be Rosa. She had bragged to him and Jared more than once how she had the entire tale of Princess Poffinpheffer committed to memory. Hell, she even dressed up as her for Halloween their final year at Salem. She'd be more than qualified for storytelling duty.

"Rosa," he whispered.

She spun around, wand raised.

"Chill. It's me. Jimmy."

"Sorry." She lowered her wand. "What's up?"

"Well, I thought I'd switch off with you early. Actually, I got a special assignment for you."

"What is it?"

"Well, one of the girls, Holly, the one with the pigtails. She's crying and saying how much she misses her parents and was telling me how they read her stories when she can't sleep. Now she wants me to tell her a story and . . . well, c'mon. Like I know any stories that'd keep a seven-year-old entertained. Or that would even be appropriate for a seven-year-old."

"And you came to me because . . ."

O'Bannon flipped up his palms in an "isn't it obvious" gesture. "You're Miss Wizarding Nursery Rhymes. Princess Poffinpheffer and all that. You'd be better at this than I would."

To his surprise, Rosa gave him a stern look. "Jimmy, she wants you to tell her a story."

"Rosa, I just told you I don't -"

"Make one up." She sighed and walked over to him. "Look, that girl, Holly, is probably scared out of her mind. Think about it. This afternoon she's at the YWW-triple-A, skating around and shooting pucks, thinking everything's fine with the world. Then she's caught up in a battle, she's whisked away by a bunch of people she doesn't know, and she's sleeping in a forest who knows how far from home. You're the only familiar face to her of the four of us. You're the one she knows, the one she trusts. It'll help her a lot more if the story comes from you instead of me."

He twisted his lips, wanting to argue some more. Unfortunately, he had to admit Rosa was right.

"You'll do fine." She patted his arm. "For the man who came up with using cows to kill man-eating Chupacabra, I'm sure you can come up with a simple story for a little girl."

He gave her a brief grin, thanked her and headed back to the encampment. He carefully made his way around the sleeping children, his mind cobbling together the makings of what he hoped would be a decent story.

Holly was still crying by the time he returned to her.

"Sorry about that." He smiled as he knelt beside her. "I had to . . . um, check on something. So, you want a story, huh?"

"Yes, please?" She nodded.

"Okay. I may not be as good as your mom and dad, but here it goes."

O'Bannon drew a deep breath. "Once upon a time, there was a far away kingdom called . . . The Kingdom of Fenway. And in this kingdom lived a great . . . Sultan! The Sultan Bambino. And he played the most popular sport in the kingdom, baseball. The Bambino threw the ball better than anyone else, and hit the ball farther than anyone else, and ate more hot dogs than anyone else."

A flicker of a smile traced Holly's lips.

"Now, the people of Fenway loved the Sultan Bambino. And he was always kind to children and would always hit . . . the grandest slams for them when they'd ask. But . . ." He raised a finger for dramatic effect. "There was one man in the Kingdom of Fenway who did not like the Sultan Bambino. In fact, he was the King of Fenway. The evil but dimwitted . . . King Frazee. And King Frazee grew jealous because his subjects loved the Bambino more than him. So he exiled the Bambino to a dark and dismal land known as . . . the Bronx Empire. Oh yeah, and as compensation, the Bronx Empire paid King Frazee a large sum of money, which the king used to finance a play, which everyone hated and which made the king look even more dimwitted."

This elicited a giggle from Holly.

"Now, the Baseball Gods were angry at what King Frazee did, and placed a curse the Kingdom of Fenway. Their baseball team would never win a championship so long as the Bronx Empire possessed the Sultan Bambino. So the subjects of Fenway had to watch as their hero was forced to play for the Bronx Empire, and help them win championship after championship. Even when the Sultan Bambino died, the Bronx Empire kept his spirit prisoner with the magical . . . chains of DiMaggio. Now the people of Fenway knew their only hope of winning a baseball championship was to free the Bambino's spirit from the magical chains, thus lifting the curse. Many brave warriors of Fenway journeyed into the Bronx Empire to attempt to free the Bambino's spirit. Warriors like . . . Williams and Yastrzemski and Clemens and . . . Buckner." He said the last name through clenched teeth. "But they all failed. Then one day, a young warrior . . . Prince Nomar, declared that he would venture into the heart of the Bronx Empire and free the Bambino's spirit. But everyone doubted Prince Nomar could do this, because there was a prince in the Bronx everyone said was better, the vain and . . . somewhat girly-looking Prince Jeter."

Another giggle from Holly.

"Well, when Prince Nomar got to the great Bronx Palace, he confronted Prince Jeter. The two went at it, their swords clanging together from blow after blow."

Holly's eyes widened.

"Prince Jeter started to gain the upper hand."

"No," Holly gasped.

"Yes. He had the brave Prince Nomar on the ropes until . . ."

"Until what?"

O'Bannon grinned. "Until Prince Jeter's vanity got the better of him. You see, while he and Prince Nomar were fighting, Prince Jeter happened to pass by a mirror. He couldn't help but stop and admire his, supposedly, handsome reflection. But while Prince Jeter gazed at himself, Prince Nomar took the opportunity to bop him on the head and knock him out."

Holly clasped her hands together.

"And Prince Nomar freed the Bambino's spirit from the Chains of DiMaggio. The Baseball Gods were pleased, and lifted the curse from the Kingdom of Fenway, who then went on to win the next . . . forty baseball championships. The end."

"That was awesome." Holly shot him a huge grin.

"Thanks. You feel better now?"

"Mm-hmm."

"Good. Now get some sleep. We're gonna be doing a lot of walking tomorrow, and I want you well-rested. Okay?"

"Okay. Thank you, Coach Jimmy. Good night."

"Good night, Holly." He smiled and patted the girl on the head.

As soon as Holly closed her eyes, O'Bannon got to his feet and headed off.

That's when he noticed Rosa standing nearby, her arms folded, shaking her head.

"What?" he asked.

She softly chuckled. "Only you could come up with a crazy-ass fairy tale like that. How many different pieces of Boston Red Sox history did you put in there?"

"Hey, it worked, didn't it?"

"That it did. Nice job, Jimmy."

"Thanks." The smile faded from his face.

"What is it?" Rosa walked over to him.

He looked over his shoulder at Holly, nestled in her blanket. "It's just . . . Holly's okay now, but it's gonna take a lot more than telling stories to get all these kids through this."

_**TO BE CONTINUED**_


	6. Help From A Kestrel

**CHAPTER 6: HELP FROM A KESTREL **

* * *

Jared Diaz's stomach growled as he stepped between a couple of thick bushes. He couldn't remember ever feeling so hungry, for so long.

Their food had run out three days ago, forcing them to forage. He didn't think that would be much of a problem. They were in a forest, for Merlin's sake. There should be animals all over the place.

He learned that hunting wasn't so easy. There'd been times they'd gone an hour or two without seeing so much as a chipmunk. Even the animals they did catch – birds, rabbits, squirrels – didn't have enough meat to come close to filling the stomachs of eighteen kids and four young adults. He thought their luck would change when they came across creeks and ponds. His mouth watered when he thought of all the fish they could catch with a simple Summoning Charm.

Most of the fish they did get looked better suited as bait than dinner.

His stomach growled again_._

_Man, I'd kill for a Muggle cheeseburger right now._

Jared imagined a huge beef patty with melted cheese, smothered in ketchup and topped with lettuce, tomatoes and pickles. He couldn't help but moan in delight.

_Dude, quit torturing yourself._

He sighed and continued through the woods, on the lookout for any animals, praying he'd come across a deer. If he brought down one of those, they'd all eat like kings tonight.

Instead of a deer, he spotted a little brown and gray sparrow, which he nailed with a Battering Charm.

_You'd need ten of these things just to make a dent in someone's hunger._

Jared picked up the dead bird and stuck it in his knapsack. He straightened up and looked through the trees in front of him. In the distance he saw three dark humps along the horizon.

He frowned, projecting his thoughts beyond those mountains, to the distant cities and towns . . . and people.

_Where are you Mom and Dad? Where are you Aunt Adelaide and Uncle Cesario?_

He expected his parents or Rosa's parents to show up a few days ago with more food. They knew they only had enough to eat for a couple days. They wouldn't leave them out here to starve.

Unless . . .

_No. No, don't think about it._

Mom and Dad and Aunt Adelaide and Uncle Cesario were okay. They had to be. Hell, all four of them survived the First Big War. Nothing bad could have happened to them.

_Then why haven't they shown up with any food? _

He hated this. He hated not knowing what the hell was happening beyond those mountains. Were they winning the war? Losing it? Had any of his family been hurt or killed?

He kicked at the ground, sending up a small shower of dirt and leaves. He should be out there fighting the damn Death Eaters, not stuck here worrying about where his next meal would come from.

Jared pressed his back against a tree and continued to stare at the distant mountains. He knew he should keep moving, try to find more food for the group. But the dark part of his imagination assaulted him with images of his parents and his brother Esteban and his aunt and uncle lying dead somewhere.

_No, no, no! _He closed his eyes, trying to think of happier times. Christmas. Thanksgiving. Family reunions. His seven years at the Salem Witches Institute.

That just stirred up more worry. The faces of friends and classmates flashed through his mind. How were they faring? Were any of them fighting? Had any of them died? Were they being hunted like his group?

He swallowed, thinking about all his friends who'd played in the Salem hockey league. Not just his teammates on Blazenrowe Hall, but everyone from the other three dorms. He thought of Penelope Hale from Ardenturo Hall. Merlin, he had such a crush on her during Fourth Year. He thought of his old teammate Dante Marshall, a good-natured guy who got along with practically everyone.

Were the Death Eaters after them, and all the other hockey players, because they had supposedly disgraced the Wizarding World by playing a Muggle game?

More worry wrapped its dark tentacles around him as he thought of all the Muggle-borns he'd gone to school with, especially Cindy Walker, who graduated top of their class. He bit his lip, thinking how much You-Know-Who's fanatics would love to get hold of her. Can't have Muggle-borns doing better than purebloods, can we?

_Friggin' bastards._

He drew a long, slow breath, sending out a silent prayer for Cindy and all his other Muggle-born friends.

Another face materialized in his mind's eye, one that he tried not to think about for the last year because it hurt too much. But that smooth, ebony face, coiffed black hair and alluring brown eyes hovered in front of him. Jared sighed and stared at the ground, remembering his former girlfriend, Michelle Bunker.

Six months they'd been together, his longest relationship with any girl. Michelle was beautiful, smart and funny. He remembered how his heart sped up every time he saw her. Never had a girl made him feel like that.

But weeks before graduation, it all came crashing down, just because he couldn't say those three little words. To this day he wondered why he couldn't say, "I love you." He knew he did. But after graduation he'd be working for the Magical Museum of North America, traveling all over the world. Could he afford to keep himself tied down to a single person when a world full of opportunities and experiences lay before him?

Rosa had called him an idiot for not telling Michelle how he felt. That time, Rosa had been right. He was an idiot. He had a good thing and screwed it up.

Jared shook his head. Merlin, he wished he could rectify things between him and Michelle. It didn't even matter if she took him back. Just so long as she accepted his apology.

Now he had no idea if she were alive or dead.

"Hey. You okay?"

Jared whirled around to find Rosa, a concerned look on her face. He half-expected his cousin to give him some kind of smart-ass line, like, "Can you do something more useful than holding up a tree?" But she didn't. Actually, he and Rosa hadn't ragged on each other since they arrived in the Appalachians. He hadn't even cracked a single joke in all that time. How could anything be funny these days?

"I'm fine."

"You sure? Because you -"

"I'm fine." His tone was sharper.

Rosa didn't look convinced.

Jared's face scrunched in frustration. Mentally he begged Rosa to let it go.

She did. "Um. Okay. You think you got enough?" She nodded to the knapsack.

"I think this is as good as it's gonna get."

"Good. Let's get back to the others."

He followed Rosa through the woods, neither of them speaking. By the time they got back to camp, Jimmy and Artimus had a couple big cooking fires going. The kids had split into little clusters of three or four. The younger ones played with wooden trains Rosa had transfigured earlier from tree branches. The older ones played the Muggle card game "Fish" with cards Jimmy transfigured from leaves. Jared grinned, grateful that their wizarding abilities could produce toys and games for these children to enjoy, even if the spells used to create those things would wear off after a few hours.

_Well, anything to help get their minds off this situation, even for a little while._

He wondered if these kids could ever completely forget about being stuck in the mountains because the damn scrotum-licking Death Eaters wanted to torture them, or worse.

Jared helped Rosa, Jimmy and Artimus impale the day's catch on improvised wooden spits. Four rabbits were the biggest animals they had. The rest were small birds, fish and squirrels. They also found a bunch of wild berries. Rosa had cast a charm on them to determine whether they were poisonous or not.

After the animals had been cooked, Jimmy lined up the children. The youngest went first and got bigger portions, since they needed more food to keep their strength up with all the hiking they did. Judging from the looks on the faces of some of the older kids, they weren't too thrilled about that, but kept their complaints to themselves.

Except for Vance.

Jared had taken a serious dislike to that kid. He so reminded him of his former classmate Merak Mather. A spoiled little rich boy who felt other people existed only to serve him, and whined up a storm when he didn't get what he wanted.

Vance took his meat and berries with a look of disdain. At least he wasn't raising a fuss like he did during their first couple days here. Rosa had put a stop to that. After Vance threw a super tantrum one night during dinner, she practically dragged him off into the woods. They came back ten minutes later, with the kid steaming in red-faced silence. Jared had a good idea the sort of things Rosa said to the little brat. He'd been on the receiving end of enough of his cousin's tongue-lashings.

A contented feeling washed over him. He thanked Merlin Rosa and Jimmy were here. Jimmy was flat out a born leader. He'd seen that when they played together on the Blazenrowe Hall hockey team, and during their two missions to England. Sure sometimes his temper got the better of him, but when the crap hit the fan, Jimmy kept his head and led them through it.

And Rosa? Besides his mother, he'd be hard-pressed to find another woman just as strong-willed. Along with being an outstanding dueler, Rosa tackled things with more dedication than he could ever muster. She always seemed to find the right words for any situation. And she just had this presence about her. She always looked sure of herself. She came across as a person you wanted to follow into battle.

Plus, she and Jimmy handled these kids better than he ever could.

He had no idea what would happen if those two weren't around. What the hell did he know about taking care of kids? Well, he supposed he'd do his best, but he wouldn't do anywhere near as good a job as Jimmy or Rosa.

And much as he considered Jimmy and Artimus his brothers, it gave him much comfort to know he had a blood relative like Rosa here with him.

Jared got his food, some small chunks of rabbit meat, a couple of smaller chunks bird meat, three tiny shriveled up fish and a little pile of berries. It wouldn't make him full, not even close. At best he would be less hungry than he was now.

Visions of meal time at the Salem Witches Institute filled his mind, with food stretching from one end of the table to the other. How he cursed Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration, which stated food cannot be magically created.

He spotted Artimus sitting with his back against a tree and plopped down next to him. Art nodded to him, and he nodded back. Jared kept glancing at his friend as they ate, wondering if Artimus would say anything. For the most part, he remained in the shell he'd created around himself since Hector's death. Rosa had talked to him a few times. Whether or not her words helped was anybody's guess. Judging from Art's sullen expression and his silent demeanor, Jared guessed no.

A lump formed in his throat. He couldn't imagine the sort of grief Artimus was going through. Not only had he lost a family member, he lost the one family member who genuinely cared about him. Artimus' father looked upon him as someone unworthy of the Rand name. His two other brothers, Horace and Arcadius, weren't any better. And the never-ending parade of step-mothers cared more about getting their hands on the Rand family fortune than they ever did about Artimus.

Jared wanted to do something for him. Say something that would make him feel better, or at the very least ease his pain. But what? He wasn't good at stuff like that. That was Rosa's forte.

Plus, considering some of the thoughts he had since the battle at the YWWAAA, he didn't know if he had any right to try and comfort Artimus.

He stared at his plate, poking his meat with his fork. He closed his eyes, anger and guilt flaring inside him. Sometimes, he had actually been _glad_ Hector got hit with that Killing Curse. Just a couple feet in any other direction and it could have been him or Rosa or Jimmy or Artimus himself. He liked Hector well enough, but he never thought of him as family like the other three.

Merlin, how could he have those thoughts? Hector was a good guy. Artimus loved him. All Jared had to do was glance at his friend to see how much Hector's death tore him apart.

Why couldn't he think of some words to help him?

Jared tapped Artimus' shoulder. He turned to him. Jared gave him a grin and a nod. Artimus responded with a brief smile before going back to eating.

_If that's the best I can do, then I'm totally pathetic._

The two ate the rest of their meal in silence.

After dinner, the kids got ready for bed. Some of the younger ones gathered around Rosa, nestled in their blankets, while she told them some wizarding fairy tale. Jared started heading away from the encampment as he had drawn the first watch of the night.

A brilliant white light flashed around them.

He spun around, wand raised. Rosa, Jimmy and Artimus sprang to their feet, wands at the ready.

A corporeal patronus hovered in the middle of the encampment. Jared relaxed when he recognized the ethereal white bird. A kestrel.

"Hello." A silky, French-accented voice came from the patronus. "I am sending this patronus ahead to let you know I am coming. I will arrive in one minute."

The patronus faded. Jared glanced over to Jimmy. No surprise, a smile spread across his face.

A sharp crack echoed through the forest.

"_Lumos!"_ The tip of Jared's wand glowed brightly. He aimed it in the direction of the crack.

A tall girl stood a few feet away. She wore a thick shirt and jeans that hugged her well-toned body. Her long blond hair had been tied in a ponytail, framing a smooth, angular, flawless face.

"Mireet!" Jimmy hurried past him.

"Jimmy!" Mireet Miradeaux's face lit up as he neared her.

"Wait, Jimmy!" Rosa's voice stopped him in his tracks.

Jimmy bit his lower lip, then stared at Mireet. "When you took that Muggle gymnastics class, why did you like your teacher so much?"

"I did not like my teacher. He constantly criticized me for being too tall, too uncoordinated and too fat." She tacked on something in French Jared assumed to be very unflattering.

Jimmy smiled. "You're the real deal."

The two hugged. Jared, Rosa and Artimus started over to the newly arrived French witch as she kissed Jimmy on both cheeks. More hugs and cheek kissing followed with the rest of them.

"Artimus." Mireet laid a hand on his cheek. "I am so sorry about your brother. I had only met him a few times, but he seemed a wonderful man. And I know he loved you dearly."

"Thanks, Mireet," Artimus whispered and nodded.

"What are you doing here?" Jimmy asked as they walked back to the encampment.

"The Guild of the Light designated me as your contact. I'll be bringing you food and other supplies once a week. _Hopefully_ once a week. Things are still very bad."

"What's going on?" Jared stepped closer to her. "Do you know about my parents? Rosa's parents?"

"Yes. They have been fighting Death Eaters, but they are fine."

Jared let out a long sigh of relief. Rosa wrapped an arm around his shoulder.

"So how bad is it?" asked Jimmy.

Mireet lowered her head. "The war does not go well. Your Department of Magic is in ruin, and many buildings in Haypippil Square have been burned down. The Death Eaters have also been very aggressive in hunting Muggle-borns, or any other witches and wizards they deem undesirable."

Jared scowled. He thought back to the Death Eaters that attacked the YWWAAA, the ones that threatened these children and killed Hector. Dammit, he wanted a piece of those bastards.

"Any news from Britain?" asked Rosa.

Mireet nodded. "_Oui._ You-Know-Who's forces are engaged in full-scale search for Harry Potter."

Jared swallowed. More worry surged through him. The entire Wizarding World had been looking to Harry Potter as their savior, hoping he would dispatch Voldemort for a second, final, time. Beyond that, Harry had become a friend to all of them. Harry and his surrogate family, the Weasleys.

"Is he okay?" he asked. "And what about the Weasleys?"

"Harry has gone into hiding. Unfortunately, I have heard no news about the Weasleys."

Jared noticed Jimmy and Rosa stare at one another, both with worried expressions. Jimmy had become best friends with Fred and George Weasley during his time at Hogwarts, and Rosa and George had a fling – actually, more than just a fling – their last mission to England.

Mireet continued. "The British Ministry of Magic has also enacted new measures regarding Muggle-borns."

"What sort of new measures?" Anger lines dug into Jimmy's face.

"They have begun what they call a Muggle-born Register. Muggle-borns must now appear before a Muggle-born Registration Commission to prove that they have at least one wizarding relative. If they cannot . . . well, the Ministry did not say what would happen to them."

"Oh, I can guess," Jimmy spoke in a slow, sharp tone. "You-Know-Who will probably shove them into some 'special camp' so they won't 'infect' the rest of the wizarding population, just like the Nazis did to the Jews in World War Two. Then they'll quietly start killing them without the public knowing a damn thing about it."

"Considering this is You-Know-Who," Rosa said. "He may skip the camp part and just kill Muggle-borns outright. Muggle-borns and anyone else the son-of-a-bitch considers impure."

Jared shook his head, clenching his wand tightly. He thought about the Muggle-borns he met in the DA during the Longathian Tunnel Affair; Hermione Granger, Dean Thomas, Justin Finch-Fletchley and those excessively cheerful Creevey brothers. Had they been dragged before this stupid Registration Committee? Had any of them been killed for having "dirty blood?"

"Man, I hope whatever Harry needs to do to get rid of You-Know-Who for good, he does it soon. Damn soon."

"You and me both, man." Jimmy nodded at him. He then turned to Mireet. "Well, I hope you brought some good stuff with you. We're down to eating squirrels and berries right now."

"You should have enough for the next five or six days. The war has made it difficult to get food from Wizarding shops, so some of the Muggle-borns in the Guild went to Muggle stores. The Death Eaters are less likely to observe those places than a Wizarding shop."

Mireet Apparated away a few times, coming back from each trip with large sacks of food. Jared and his friends examined the contents. Most of the food was canned, either soup or fruit.

"I guess it's too much to ask for the Guild to throw in some Dunkin' Donuts, too."

Jimmy chuckled. So did Rosa. Jared glanced at them, a flicker of surprise shooting through him. _Did I just make a joke?_

He kind of did. Truth be known, he really wanted some Dunkin' Donuts. He'd been in love with that Muggle shop, and the many, many, many different kinds of donuts it offered, since Jimmy introduced him to it when they were twelve.

"I will see what I can do." Mireet gave him a heart-warming smile.

"Aw, if you can deliver on that, I will love you forever." He caught himself before he said, _"More than Jimmy does."_ Even he had lines he wouldn't cross.

"Oh, the Infantes and Diazes also want me to remove your Locator Charms."

"What for?" asked Rosa.

"They are worried the Death Eaters might work on spells to detect them, even the most personal of them."

Jared groaned at the thought. Usually only the witch or wizard who cast a Locator Charm could find the person whom they put it on. But he learned in Theoretical Magic that a combination of certain spells might break through the charm and allow a third party to locate anyone they wish. Though such spellwork would be extremely difficult, and would have to be performed by very, very skilled wizards or witches.

And Voldemort's ranks boasted some very, very skilled wizards and witches.

Mireet lifted the Locator Charms first from the quartet, then the children. Jared had to admit some of the kids' reactions to the gorgeous French witch were amusing. Daedalus's jaw practically lay on the ground. Madson gawked at her, a bit of drool on the corner of his mouth. Even that brat Vance had a goofy grin on his face as Mireet stood over him waving her wand.

Once she finished, the quartet gathered around her.

"Okay." Jared folded his arms. "Now that we don't have Locator Charms on us any more, how can you guys find us?"

"With this." Mireet pulled out a piece of parchment from beneath her shirt and unfolded it.

Jared leaned in with the others, staring at illustrated forests, mountains, streams and towns. In one particular forest he saw 23 little dots, each one with a name floating beside it. _Jimmy O'Bannon, Rosa Infante, Artimus Rand, Mireet Miradeaux, Jared Diaz, Daedalus Drunkenmiller, Vance Hochaver, Deanna Jackson._

"Whoa!" Jared's eyes widened. "It's like that map Harry had back in Britain." That map, he remembered, had shown the location of everyone in Hogwarts castle, and helped them immensely during their escape from Dolores Umbridge and her aurors.

"Cool," Rosa said in a hushed voice.

"How did you come up with this?" Jimmy looked at Mireet.

"I created it with the help of Mister Diaz. Not only will it let me know where you are at all times, but you can use it to navigate through this wilderness. Mister Diaz put warning charms on it to alert you to any areas that have a high concentration of giants, trolls or any other dangerous creatures. Also, if you are approaching any wizarding communities with a heavy Death Eater presence, the image of that village will show a snake wrapped around it."

"This is awesome." A smile grew across Jimmy's face. "This is gonna help a lot. Thanks, Mireet."

"We just better take good care of these maps," Rosa stated. "If these fall into the wrong hands we're all screwed."

"I have taken care of that." Mireet's eyes flickered amongst the quartet. "There is a charm on these maps magically linking them to the five of us. We are the only ones who can read them. But, if any of us die, or if it is touched by anyone bearing the Dark Mark, then _both _maps will immediately burst into flames."

Silence settled over the group. A chill went through Jared's insides. He admired Mireet's ingenious charm to prevent the Death Eaters from getting these maps should the worst happen. But he hated thinking about the worst happening to him and his friends.

He noticed Jimmy's and Mireet's eyes lock on one another. Concern and fear radiated from their faces.

The French witch finally drew a steady breath. "I should be getting back."

"Are you sure you'll be all right?" The words jumped out of Jimmy's mouth.

"_Oui._ The Death Eaters are leaving the wizarding ambassadors and their staffs alone, at least those from countries not engaged in open warfare."

"So France is okay?" asked Jared.

A crest-fallen look took hold of Mireet's beautiful face. "No. _Okay_ is not a word I would use to describe what is happening in France."

"So what is going on there?" Jimmy slid closer to her.

"The day after You-Know-Who took over England, he sent an envoy to our Minister of Magic, informing her that it would be in her best interest not to interfere in affairs across the Channel. She acquiesced." Mireet hissed the last two words.

"Mireet, I'm so sorry." Jimmy gently grasped her upper arm.

She nodded at him, unsmiling. _"Merci. _My government may not want to fight this madman, but rest assured, _Force d'Vigilant _will."

"Good," Jared said. "I hope they kick a lot of Death Eater ass over there."

Mireet turned to him, confidence radiating from her eyes. "They will, Jared. Never doubt that."

She forced a smile. "I apologize, but I must go. Good luck to you all, and be careful."

The quartet wished her the same.

"I'll walk you outside the wards." Jimmy led her out of the encampment and past a few trees before stopping at a clearing. They turned and faced one another, talking. Jared couldn't hear a word they said. But he noticed they held each other's hands.

"Why can't they just say it?" Rosa sighed next to him.

"Huh?" He turned to her.

"Jimmy and Mireet. Only an idiot can't see they're totally in love with one another. Merlin, they've been in love since they were at Hogwarts together, even if they haven't done anything about it."

"Well, you know what they said about that."

"Yeah." Rosa shook her head. "First she doesn't want to get serious with him because some jackass back in France tore her heart to pieces, then he doesn't want to get serious with her because of how the war came between him and Talia, and he doesn't want the same thing happening with him and Mireet."

"You know, if there was a time to get serious with someone you care about, this is it. Who the hell knows what's gonna happen to any of us from one day to the next? This isn't the kind of regret you wanna go through life with."

Rosa drew back her head, her mouth falling open in shocked silence.

Jared's brow furrowed. "What?"

"When did you get so deep?"

"What? It's just . . . I mean, people shouldn't keep that sort of stuff from each other, you know?"

Rosa placed a hand on his shoulder. "This has something to do with Michelle Bunker, right?"

He opened his mouth to protest, but decided it was futile. Rosa could always read him well. "Yeah, I thought about her today. Thought how I should have told her, you know, that I loved her." He practically mumbled the last three words. "Now I don't even know how she's doing, if I'll ever see her again. I'm just hoping Jimmy doesn't make the same mistake I did."

Jared watched as Mireet kissed Jimmy on both cheeks and vanished in a loud crack.

"We'll talk with him about it," Rosa told him. "Hopefully he'll listen."

Jared nodded, noticing how Jimmy stared at the patch of ground where Mireet had stood just seconds before.

_I hope so, too._

_**TO BE CONTINUED**_


	7. Big Troubles

**CHAPTER 7: BIG TROUBLES**

* * *

With a couple of flicks of his wand, the stubble covering O'Bannon's face vanished. He ran a hand over both cheeks. Absolutely smooth, better than any Muggle razor could do. He thanked God their wands let him and his friends maintain their personal hygiene. Staying as clean and well-groomed as possible helped them feel human despite being stuck in the middle of the wilderness. As Rosa put it, "Just because we're miles from civilization doesn't mean I'm gonna walk around with gorilla legs."

He smiled when he remembered Jared's comment to her. "Yeah, like there are any guys around here you need to impress."

Even Artimus had chuckled at that one, though very, very briefly.

O'Bannon got to his feet, drawing in a breath of cool air. Fall would be here soon. He found it hard to believe they had been in the Appalachians for well over a month. Their group dynamic was starting to get back to normal. Rosa and Jared exchanged their usual barbs. Not as many as he'd grown used to over the last eight years, but it was better than the cousins _not _ripping on one another.

He glanced across the encampment at Artimus, who laid out breakfast with Jared's help. He started talking more, but the sorrow remained in his eyes. O'Bannon wondered if his friend would ever completely get over Hector's death.

_Does anyone ever get over the death of a brother?_

After the children got their breakfasts, he picked up his. Two cans of fruit cocktail and a can of beef raviolis. He looked at the knapsacks where they stored their food. They were getting low on canned goods for one more meal. They'd have to start rationing, and foraging some more. Hopefully Mireet would show up in a day or two with more food. It wasn't like she could come up with a fixed schedule for this, not with a war on.

He used his wand to transfigure a couple of twigs into a spoon and fork, open the can of raviolis and heat them. His heartbeat quickened, as it did every time he thought of Mireet. Her visits had become one of the few bright spots during this life of exile. Brief though they were, he savored every second of them. He thought of her smile, her silky French accent, the way her long blond hair sometimes draped over her right shoulder, her eyes, warm and doe-like, but concealing unlimited strength.

O'Bannon leaned against a tree trunk. _If it weren't for this damn war . . ._

"Morning, Coach Jimmy."

He looked up to see Holly. A jolt of nervousness went through him, as it usually did whenever she came around him. Ever since that first night in the mountains, when he had alleviated her fears with a simple bedtime story, she'd become . . . attached, he guessed was the right word, to him. She always tried to stick close to him when they hiked through the woods, or sit next to him during meals. And she always wanted him to tell her a bedtime story. Yeah, he cared about all these kids and would do anything to protect them, but this . . . this stuff with Holly crossed into parent territory. He could handle coaching these kids, but being a surrogate parent to them? How appropriate could it be for an 18-year-old guy to get close to a 7-year-old girl who wasn't a family member?

"Morning, Holly."

She plopped down next to him, staring at her cans with a sullen expression. This went on for about a minute.

"Um, you okay, Holly?"

She shook her head, not looking up at him.

"Uh, you want to talk about it?"

Holly lifted her head and stared at him, an air of sadness surrounding her face.

O'Bannon hoped she wouldn't cry.

"So, um, what's wrong?"

Her shoulders rose and fell with a long breath. "I had a dream last night."

"A bad dream?"

Holly shook her head.

"What did you dream about?" he asked.

"My kitty cat, Nibbles."

"That sounds like a nice dream. Why would that make you upset?"

Holly hung her head. Her jaw quivered.

O'Bannon tensed, waiting for her to cry, and dreading it.

"I usually dream about Mommy and Daddy, 'cause I miss 'em real, real bad. I mean, I love Nibbles, too. But Mommy and Daddy . . . I'm scared they'll get hurt, and . . . and I'm scared that if I don't dream about them, then I'll stop caring about them and stop missing them, and I don't wanna do that."

A tear slid down Holly's cheek.

"Hey, c'mon." O'Bannon put an arm around her. "Don't think that way. Just because you have a dream about your cat instead of your parents doesn't mean you've stopped worrying about them or caring about them. I miss my Mom and Dad, too, and I worry about them. I think about them a lot and I've had a few dreams about being back with them. But don't feel guilty about other things you care about popping up in your dreams. We all have little stuff in our lives that we miss. You know, a couple nights ago, before I fell asleep, I was thinking how the World Series and the start of the NHL season is coming up. I was wondering if the fr . . . uh, stupid Yankees were gonna win the Series, I was wondering how the Bruins would do this year. Doesn't seem important when we're hiding from Death Eaters, but watching baseball and hockey were big deals to me, and I do think about it from time to time. It doesn't make me care less about my parents when I do, it's just . . . I don't know. I think thinking about those little slices of life, and how much we miss them, it just makes us human."

"Really?"

"Yup. Really."

A smile formed on Holly's face. She put down her can of fruit cocktail and threw her arms around O'Bannon. He stiffened at the sudden hug, then set down his can and wrapped an arm around the little girl.

"I wish I could see Mommy and Daddy and let 'em know how much I miss them."

"So do I, Holly." Unfortunately, the Guild decided it would not be a good idea to pass along messages from these kids to their parents. No contact meant no information Death Eaters could extract from them.

"You think they're okay?" she asked.

"Yeah, I'm sure they are. Probably taking care of Nibbles, too."

"You think they miss me?"

"I guarantee you, they miss you a lot."

Holly's smile kept growing. Her mood improved, she dug into her breakfast.

When they finished eating, they got to their feet. Holly sprinted to the middle of the encampment, where the children placed their empty cans on the ground.

O'Bannon started over there, too, when Rosa intercepted him, an elfish grin plastered on her face.

"She certainly has become your number one fan."

The corners of his mouth twisted. He shrugged.

"What?" Rosa asked. "You have a problem with Holly being around you so much?"

"I, uh, well . . . I don't know. Just, I guess I get nervous when I have to do this parent kinda stuff."

Rosa shot him a sympathetic smile. "Well from what I've seen, you're doing a great job with this 'parent kinda stuff'."

"You think so?"

"If you were doing a crappy job of it, I'd tell you. So quit doubting yourself. Got it?"

"Yes, Ma'am." He threw her a mock salute.

Rosa slapped his chest. "You're an ass. And here I was going to tell you what a great father you'd make, especially if you have kids with a certain special witch who's tall, blond and, oh yeah, French."

O'Bannon groaned. "Rosa, now's not the time."

"I think this _is _the time."

He started to walk away. "I tried to have a girlfriend while fighting a war, and look -"

Rosa leapt in front of him. "That was months ago, Jimmy. You can't keep clinging to that as an excuse for not -"

"Rosa, just . . . just drop it. Okay?"

He didn't wait for Rosa to respond. He just stepped around her and walked toward the center of the encampment.

Thankfully, Rosa didn't say anything more about him and Mireet. Had circumstances been drastically different, he'd be doing his damnedest to be with her, as more than just a friend. But how could he even think about starting a relationship with her with the Wizarding World at war, and with him hiding in the Appalachians?

Using their wands, the quartet dug a deep hole and dumped all the cans into it. Another spell reduced them to molten slag. Once the hole was covered, O'Bannon took out his magical map of the Appalachians. Rosa, Jared and Artimus gathered around him.

"Okay, if everything goes well, we should be able to get to the North Carolina/Kentucky border by the end of the day."

"Just make sure to give this area a wide berth." Jared tapped a section of the map with the image of a group of large, brutish figures. Next to them was the word GIANTS.

"You read my mind, buddy." Giants, to say the least, had never been on the friendliest of terms with wizards. They'd become even more dangerous now as many of them had sided with Voldemort.

Using their wands, they tapped parts of the map to designate as rally points, where they could regroup in the event of an emergency. After that, the quartet Apparated the children to a tree-covered hilltop. From there they began their hike. Times like this, he wished they could just Apparate all day long. They'd cover a hell of a lot more distance. But too much Apparating in a short span of time put a strain on the body. The last thing he wanted was for them to Apparate, especially with the kids, when they were exhausted. They'd likely miss their destination, or worse, splinch themselves or, God forbid, the children, and none of them was skilled at spells to reattach body parts. He decided to limit their Apparating to three times a day. The rest of the time they walked.

The day passed uneventfully. They hiked, took a break, hiked some more, took another break, foraged, Apparated, hiked, rested, foraged, hiked, rested, Apparated, then set up camp for the night.

They put Anti-Spoiling Charms on the animals they caught, saving them for tomorrow, and used the last of their canned goods for dinner. O'Bannon saw Artimus sitting against a mound of dirt on the far side of the encampment and joined him.

"How're ya doing?" he asked as he sat beside him.

"Okay." Artimus dipped his spoon into a can of pear halves. "I feel like it's getting easier. All the walking, I mean. The first few days I didn't think I'd be able to keep up."

"Just takes some gettin' used to. At least you don't have an excuse to avoid exercise any more."

Artimus grinned briefly. While O'Bannon, Rosa and Jared all led very active lives, Art tended to shy away from physical activity. Walking back and forth to class at Salem was the most exercise he ever got.

The two ate in silence for a few minutes, their backs pressed against the soft mound of dirt. After finishing his pears, Artimus let out a sigh and turned to him. "You know, I've been thinking about my family a lot lately."

O'Bannon stopped chewing his potatoes. A jolt of surprise punched through him. Given how the other Rands had treated Artimus, he hadn't expected that sort of statement.

_Then again, it is his family, even if they are all assholes._

"Yeah?" was his only response.

Artimus nodded. "I don't know. I haven't spoken to any of them since graduation."

That didn't come as a surprise. O'Bannon had personally witnessed Ulysses Rand's tirade when he learned his youngest son had dared get a job for the Department of Magic's Office of Wizarding-Muggle Relations. The old jagoff went so far as to kick Artimus out of their house.

After drawing a slow breath, Artimus continued. "Sometimes I wonder why I think about them at all. Maybe it's hearing all these kids talk about how much they miss their families. But their families are probably a lot better than mine. I bet none of their fathers ever kicked them out of the house." He nodded toward a group of kids sitting around a tree. "For all I know, my father and Arcadius and Horace don't even miss me."

O'Bannon opened his mouth, about to disagree. But the words died on his tongue. Much as he hated to admit it, Artimus may actually have a point. The Rands always struck him as a cold and distant family. It made him wonder how Artimus and Hector turned out the way they –

Something pushed him. His can and spoon fell from his grasp as he pitched forward. Artimus gasped, throwing out his arms to keep from falling on his face.

"What the hell?" O'Bannon spun around. His mouth hung open.

The mound of dirt _moved! _

He and Artimus scrambled back on their hands and feet, watching the ground ripple before them. A deep moan filled the air. The ground rose higher.

Fear clenched O'Bannon's chest. He couldn't blink as he gazed at the huge form.

It wasn't dirt. Dirt didn't have hands, or legs, or shoulders, or a face with a long, scraggly beard and wild dark hair.

They hadn't been sitting against a mound of dirt. They'd been sitting against a giant.

_How the . . . we're too far away from their territory._

The giant rose to its feet. My God, the thing had to be eighteen, nineteen feet tall, its skin a deep brown and caked with dirt. It let out another deep moan.

High-pitched screams ripped through the air. O'Bannon turned. Children shot to their feet, screaming and pointing.

The giant turned to them. It leaned forward and bellowed.

Several children shrieked and ran off in different directions.

"Stay together!" Rosa shouted. "Stay together!"

The giant took a step toward them.

O'Bannon sprang to his feet. He cast two Battering Spells before Artimus got up and did the same.

The giant was unfazed by the spells. He scowled and continued forward.

The two backed up, unleashing spells and curses. Every bolt that struck the giant only seemed to make him angry. He unleashed another loud bellow.

"Art! Jared! Get the kids and get them to Rally Point F. Me and Rosa will hold him off."

He wanted to laugh at those last words. Like they could really hold off a giant. Those brutes were strong enough to fend off most spells and curses. Even experienced aurors had trouble taking down giants.

Bolts flew from their wands. None slowed down the giant. It bellowed and swept its arm at them. O'Bannon and Rosa dropped to their stomachs. A shadow and a rush of wind passed over him. He lifted his head. The giant stomped forward, the ground quaking. Clutching his wand, O'Bannon rolled away. The giant's foot slammed down barely six yards from him. O'Bannon bounced up in the air for a moment, then hit the ground.

Heart hammering in his chest, he checked for Rosa. She started to get to her feet.

More screams reached his ears, as did the crackle of spells. He spotted Jared standing in front of the Cubbages, Willie, Crea and three other children. His friend kept casting spells and curses as the giant closed in on them.

_No, no, no! _O'Bannon scrambled to his feet. "HEY! HEY!" He sent three Battering Spells at the giant's head. "HEY, UGLY! OVER HERE!"

The giant ignored him. Jared and the kids backed up. The giant reached down toward them.

A fireball flew from Rosa's wand. It struck the giant's scruffy hair near his ear. A second fireball hit the same spot. Flames lashed at the giant's hair and skin. It roared and beat at the flames with a massive hand. The giant swung around, baring its crooked, dark yellow teeth at him and Rosa.

_Yeah, that got his attention._

O'Bannon and Rosa sprinted away. The giant bellowed and followed them. He twisted around and launched several spike-covered balls from his wand. Rosa shot more fireballs. Flames smoldered on the giant's hairy chest and arms. It howled in rage and pounded after them. Mini earthquakes ripped through the ground. He and Rosa fought to maintain their balance.

They ran down an embankment, winding their way through the trees. The giant kept after them, snapping smaller trees as if they were weeds.

O'Bannon's lungs burned. His legs felt like lead. He and Rosa couldn't run forever. They'd eventually have to stand and face the giant. That, of course, would be suicide.

_Think!_ He tried to remember all the stories he heard about Kensington Kadermass, the greatest hero in the war against the Adirondack giants. What were his principles when it came to fighting giants?

The first one was simple, relatively speaking.

"We gotta get it off its feet!"

Rosa nodded.

They darted between two large trees, and stopped. Rosa lifted her wand. Thick ropes shot out the tip, attaching themselves to each tree. O'Bannon imitated her.

The giant charged at them.

"Yeah! C'mon!" Rosa cast another fireball at him. "Try and get us!"

The giant lumbered forward. O'Bannon and Rosa backed up, still casting spells. The giant bellowed, reaching out.

It passed between the trees. The ropes snagged its legs.

O'Bannon bolted left, Rosa right. The giant pitched forward and slammed into the ground. A quake lifted O'Bannon off his feet. He hit the ground and rolled. Grunting, he picked himself up on all fours.

The giant shook its head and started pushing himself up.

_Keep him off his feet._

"_Freezium!"_ A jet of white light shot from O'Bannon's wand. A sheet of ice covered the forest floor. He then used his Freezing Spell to conjure a boulder-sized chunk of solid ice, which he hurled at the giant. It cracked against the brute's head.

The giant turned to him, rubbing the side of its skull. Growling, it got to its feet, took a step forward . . .

And slipped on the ice.

Another tremor rocked the forest as the giant struck the ground.

O'Bannon regained his balance and hurried back toward the encampment. He spotted Rosa across from him. They climbed the embankment and ran for the middle of the clearing. It was deserted.

"Anybody here!" he yelled.

"Hello!" Rosa shouted. "It's Rosa and Jimmy! We took care of the giant!"

"Anybody around! Hello! Hel-"

Movement to his left. He whirled around, wand raised.

"It's me! It's me!" Deanna Jackson raised her hands, trembling violently.

"Deanna!" O'Bannon rushed over to her, followed by Rosa. He grasped her shoulders. "Are you okay?"

"Yes," she squeaked. The girl looked scared out of her mind.

_Who wouldn't be after something like that?_

"Did you see anyone else?"

Deanna shook her head. "N-No. I-I-I hid behind this bush, and I heard you, and . . . and . . ."

"You're safe now, sweetie." Rosa hugged her. "That's all that matters."

O'Bannon looked in the direction they'd come. He heard more bellows and more thuds.

"C'mon. Let's get to the rally point."

They all held on to each other and Apparated. They reappeared near a small pond, its banks lined with weeds. He spotted Jared, Artimus and several of the children.

"Everybody here?" He scanned the group.

"We've got sixteen," Jared said. "Well, now that you got Deanna, it's seventeen."

Dread consumed O'Bannon's soul. He had to fight to keep panic from taking him over.

They were missing one kid.

"Who's not here?"

"Brendan," Daedalus answered.

O'Bannon clenched his teeth. Brendan Heinz, at six, he was one of the youngest members of the group.

"Rosa. You and me are going back. The rest of you stay here."

"Guys." Jared stepped forward. "There's a giant back there. You're gonna need all the help you can get."

"I said stay here. Protecting these kids is more important than helping us. We'll be fine."

Jared opened his mouth to argue further.

O'Bannon ended any debate by Apparating.

Moments later he Disapparated at the encampment. Rosa appeared next to him. He scanned the area, ears perked up. He didn't see or hear the giant. Maybe it had moved on. Could their luck really be that good?

"Split up. Brendan's gotta be around here somewhere."

Rosa started to go to the right, then halted. "Jimmy. The map."

He wanted to smack himself. How could he forget? The magical map Mireet had given him kept constant track of the locations of him, his friends and the children.

He pulled it out of his jacket and unfolded it. The dot representing Brendan was about 150 yards to his left, behind a tree trunk.

They sprinted through the woods. O'Bannon glanced at the map every few seconds. They were getting closer.

A grinding noise caught his attention. He looked left.

The giant crashed through the woods, knocking down trees. He spotted them and bellowed.

"Oh crap!" He and Rosa picked up their pace. "Brendan! Brendan, we're coming!"

He saw Brendan poke his head up from behind the tree trunk. Even from this distance he could tell the boy was crying.

"Brendan! Stay there! We're coming -"

A tree dropped from the air and crashed in front of them. O'Bannon stumbled backwards and fell. He looked left.

The giant stomped toward them.

He turned to Rosa. "Get Brendan and go."

Rosa hesitated, her eyes flickering between him and the giant.

"Now!"

Biting her lip, Rosa took off toward Brendan.

O'Bannon got to his feet, pointing his wand at the ground. _"Free-"_

The world spun past him. A huge vice clamped around his body. He groaned, fighting for breath.

Everything stopped. He opened his eyes. His muscles tensed with fear.

The giant held him in its grip. Hatred radiated from its dark eyes and ugly, hairy face.

O'Bannon struggled to no avail. His arms were pinned so he couldn't use his wand. Rosa had probably Apparated away with Brendan by now.

_Oh God. I'm gonna die. I'm gonna die._

The giant opened its mouth. A thick, rotten stench washed over O'Bannon. He felt the urge to puke.

The giant's grip on him tightened. He closed his eyes and grimaced. An image of Mireet popped into his head.

_I'm so sorry. I l-_

Something whooshed underneath him. The giant cried out. O'Bannon opened his eyes and looked down. Flames sprang from the giant's crotch. A second fireball nailed him there. The giant shrieked and let go of him. O'Bannon fell through the air. He tried to find the breath to utter a Cushioning Charm. He failed.

Somehow, a cushion of soft air formed under him. He bounced off it and rolled to the ground. When he looked up, he saw Rosa, wand in one hand, Brendan's hand in her other.

The giant stomped around, bellowing and knocking down trees.

Rosa bent down and grabbed his shoulder. "Hold on."

They vanished in three distinct cracks.

When they reappeared at the rally point, O'Bannon fell on his back, staring up at the darkening sky.

"Jimmy!" Rosa knelt over him. "Jimmy, are you all right?"

He took a long breath. He felt sore, but not in great pain. He didn't think anything was broken.

_Talk about lucky._

He groaned and slowly sat up, helped by Rosa. Worry spread across her face.

"Looks like you remembered Kensington Kadermass' second principle for fighting giants." He gave her a crocked grin. "Hit 'em in sensitive places."

Moisture formed in Rosa's eyes. Her face stiffened. Without warning she flung her arms around him. He hugged her back.

"Thanks," O'Bannon whispered in her ear.

"There's no way in hell I'm gonna let some damn giant crush you to death." She kissed his cheek and leaned back, struggling to form a smile.

He pushed himself to his feet.

"Coach Jimmy!"

Holly Juniper barreled into him and hugged him around the waist. Taken aback for a few seconds, he finally returned the hug.

"You're okay, aren't you?" she asked.

"Heck, yeah. I'm fine."

"I can't believe you fought a giant, Coach Jimmy." Jonah Cubbage stared at him wide-eyed.

"Yeah!" Madson Yarroway nodded emphatically. "That was so cool."

Cool was the last word O'Bannon would use to describe that experience, but right now he didn't have it in him to argue. He just stated, "I had help," and looked to his three friends.

"Ya know . . ." Jared folded his arms and grinned at him. "I always thought one day all your hero worshipping of Kensington Kadermass would pay off."

O'Bannon scoffed. "Kadermass probably would've taken that giant down like that." He snapped his fingers, then looked off into the woods in thought.

"Something wrong, Jimmy?" asked Artimus.

"Yeah. That giant. We had to be a good eighty miles from its territory. What the hell was it doing that far from home?"

Jared shrugged. "Maybe it got kicked out of its tribe. That happens sometimes with them. You ask me that thing's lucky. Usually if giants don't like someone in their tribe, they just kill 'im."

"What if this giant wasn't kicked out?"

Everyone turned to Rosa.

"What do you mean?" asked Daedalus.

"What if it was a scout?"

"A scout?" A perplexed look came over Jared's face. "What the heck would he be scouting for?"

"Food. Water. Threats to giant territory. Wayward travelers."

"I guess we fall into that category." Jared frowned.

Rosa nodded. "And if he was a scout, then he'll be heading back to giant territory to tell all his friends about us. And we all know whose side the giants are on in this war."

O'Bannon's stomach collapsed. He gazed down at Holly, who still hugged him, then looked at the other children before turning to Rosa. "If you're right, then that means the Death Eaters are gonna know we're up here."

_**TO BE CONTINUED**_

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **_Jimmy's admiration for Kensington Kadermass is chronicled in my one-shot "Fear Itself."_


	8. Woodland Surprise

**CHAPTER 8: WOODLAND SURPRISE**

* * *

"This looks pretty good." Rosa examined the large tree on the edge of the embankment. "I think a couple of the smaller kids can hide in-between those exposed roots. You've got some bushes around here and at the bottom. I think we've got plenty of hiding places in case anything happens tonight."

"Maybe nothing will." Kyon hugged herself in a way that had nothing to do with the chilly October air. "I mean, it's been, like, three weeks since we ran into that giant. Nothing's happened since. Maybe we'll be okay now."

Rosa shook her head. "We can't take that chance. I've said it before, we have to assume that giant told his buddies about us, and they told the Death Eaters."

Kyon tightened her lips and stared at her shoes.

"I know things have been quiet lately," Rosa continued. "But we can't simply hope it stays that way. As a famous auror used to say, 'Constant Vigilance.'"

Daedalus, who stood next to Kyon, furrowed his brow. "What auror said that?"

"Mad-Eye Moody. He's an auror I met over in England. Actually, he was Jimmy's Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher when he studied at Hogwarts. Well, not really. His teacher was actually a Death Eater impersonating Moody, but he did such a great job he had everyone convinced he was the real Moody."

Both Daedalus and Kyon gave her perplexed looks.

"Yeah, I know. It's confusing. Have Jimmy explain it to you one day."

Daedalus stared into the sky, as if contemplating something. "'Constant Vigilance.' I like that."

Rosa grinned. "That's why we've been doing this for the past few weeks. If we get attacked again, we can't afford to have you all running in different directions. We need to have one place where everyone can hide until we come get you. Since you two are the oldest, we're counting on you to lead everyone here if the worst happens."

Daedalus nodded. Kyon just lowered her head. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other.

"Something the matter, Kyon?"

"I was just wondering. Um . . ." Her gaze fell back to the ground.

"Kyon. If anything's bothering you, you can tell me."

The corners of her mouth twitched. She spoke in barely a whisper. "What if something happens to you? All of you?"

Rosa gently grasped Kyon's shoulders. She opened her mouth, wanting to reassure her nothing would happen to her and her friends. The words refused to come out. After what happened to Artimus' brother, she knew better.

Kyon continued to stare at her, worry filling her eyes.

She took her other hand, placed it on Daedalus' shoulder, and squeezed. "If anything does happen to me and my friends, then it'll be up to you two to keep everyone safe."

Rosa felt Daedalus shudder. Kyon drew a ragged breath and said, "Us? But-But, we don't know spells like you guys do. We can't even use our wands because you said the Death Eaters probably took the spells from the Department of Magic they use to trace underage wizards who use magic. How do we defend ourselves? How do we get food and stuff?"

"You'll find ways. You'll have to in order to survive. You keep moving, you hide wherever you can, you use your heads and improvise, and you stay alive. If Harry Potter could kill a Basilisk when he was your age, then you can hide in the woods for a long time."

The Harry Potter reference seemed to take some of the worry off Kyon's face. Some. Daedalus, on the other hand, squared his shoulders and shot her a determined look. "We'll do it, Rosa."

Kyon backed him up with a less-than-enthusiastic nod.

"I know you will. C'mon. Let's get back to camp. It'll be dinner time soon. Toads and birds and squirrels. Yum."

Daedalus chuckled. Kyon tried, but only managed a flickering grin.

Dinner was ready fifteen minutes after they returned to the encampment. She had a couple chunks of bird meat before picking up her cooked toad. As always, she grimaced when she put it in her mouth. Merlin's beard, it was like eating unwashed sweatsocks.

_It's either this or you starve. _Some option. Sometimes she tried to imagine it as something else; roast beef or pork or those Buffalo wings Jimmy introduced her to a few years ago – she never could figure out why Muggles called them Buffalo wings when they were really made from chicken.

It never worked. How could she think of Buffalo wings or pork when the meat from a slimy amphibian rolled around her mouth?

After dinner, the quartet cast counterspells on the dishes and utensils, reverting them back to rocks and twigs. Before they could begin Apparating, a bright light flashed in the middle of the encampment, taking the form of a white ethereal kestrel. Mireet's patronus.

"It is me. I will be there in one minute."

Excitement bubbled inside Rosa. Mireet was coming, with more food, and likely news from the outside world. She closed her eyes and prayed she would soon hear stories of Death Eaters being defeated all over the world. Or, dare she hope, news that Harry Potter had defeated Lord Voldemort and the war was over.

A crack echoed through the woods. Rosa spotted Mireet just outside the wards. Jimmy approached her, wand at the ready.

"What's the one language you could never master?" he demanded.

"Italian. And that fact has always irritated me. Now, what was the worst trade the Boston Red Sox ever made?"

"Giving away Jeff Bagwell for Larry Anderson. We get an aging, middle reliever, Houston gets an All-Star first baseman. That worked out well."

Mireet beamed. She strode over to Jimmy, embraced him and kissed both his cheeks. Their hug lasted longer than the typical friendly embrace.

Rosa sighed. She wondered if those two would ever confess how they felt about each other.

_I'll probably have to force the issue one day._

Mireet walked into the encampment, greeting everyone. Many of the older boys gave her a very enthusiastic, "Hi, Mireet." Ten-year-old Gibson Reynolds shot her an enormous grin, as did Madson Yarroway. Daedalus followed the French witch with an admiring gaze . . . until he caught Rosa's eye. He stiffened and lowered his head.

Rosa chuckled to herself. It amused her how some of these boys reacted whenever Mireet showed up. It reminded her of the way Jared, Artimus and Ron Weasley acted around that half-veela Fleur Delacour. And Mireet didn't even have a drop of veela blood in her! Plus she was a hell of a lot nicer than that snotty twit.

The quartet helped Mireet unload the food. Same old, same old. Canned fruit, vegetables, soup and pasta, along with a few boxes of crackers. Rosa wished for a little more variety, like a nice roast duck and a chocolate cake. But all she had to do was remember eating that toad, remember they were in the woods, and she stifled any complaints.

"I also brought this with me." Mireet pulled a newspaper from beneath her thick robes.

"_The All-Seeing Eye?"_ Jared frowned. "I thought the Death Eaters controlled this now, turned it into their own little propaganda rag."

"They have." Mireet nodded. "But your mother wanted me to give that to you. She . . ." She bit her lower lip for a few moments. "She said you know the girl on the front page."

Rosa and Jared looked to one another, then to Jimmy and Artimus. A dark mass of foreboding gathered within her. A girl they knew. Did Mireet mean someone from their school? And if she was on the front page . . .

She forced herself to walk over to her cousin, joining Jimmy and Artimus. Jared unfolded the newspaper. Rosa held her breath and looked down.

_Merlin's beard._

Mouth hanging open, she read the article.

**ENRAGED PUREBLOODS KILL MUGGLE-BORN IN NEW HAMPSHIRE.**

_The body of 18-year-old Cynthia Walker was found in a wooded area outside the town of Errol early Wednesday morning by two passersby. An investigation has determined she was killed by a group of purebloods who had discovered that Walker, a Muggle-born, used as-yet undetermined means to steal magic from the Wizarding World and use it for her own gain. The group, justifiably enraged, pursued Walker into the woods. The Muggle-born attempted to attack the group, who had no choice but to defend themselves. The resulting exchange of spells resulted in Walker's death. No purebloods were hurt._

_Walker graduated from the Salem Witches Institute in Massachusetts less than a year-and-a-half ago as class valedictorian. It is obvious her academic success is solely due to her thievery of magic from true witches and wizards._

"What a bunch of crap!" Jared crumpled the edges of the newspaper. "And look at that!" He nodded to the black-and-white photograph in the center, which depicted a short, rather overweight girl lying crumpled in a ditch. "Just dumping her there like she was a pile of garbage."

Jimmy's face twisted in rage. A sorrowful look fell over Artimus' face.

Rosa just gaped at the photo. It just didn't seem real. Cindy Walker. Dead. _Murdered._ A year-and-a-half ago she was delivering a speech at their graduation. Now . . .

"You knew her?" Mireet asked.

Rosa nodded. "Yeah. She was in the same year as us. I mean, we weren't really that close with her. But we got along all right."

"She helped me with Potions," Jimmy said. "I may not have had the grades to go to Hogwarts if it wasn't for her."

"She gave me some pointers in Arithmancy our Fourth Year." Jared mentioned. "She was one smart witch."

"Yeah. Which is why those bastards killed her." Fury burned in Jimmy's eyes.

"I just . . . I just don't believe it." Rosa shook her head. Her throat tightened when she realized she had no special memories of Cindy Walker that stuck out in her head. They said hello whenever they passed one another at Salem. They talked sometimes at meals or in the Blazenrowe Hall parlor about . . . stuff.

Rosa lowered her head. Jeez, what did she really know about Cindy? Nothing much, to be honest. It wasn't like she harbored any prejudices toward her. They just didn't have much in common. She had an adventurous streak, while Cindy was the studious type.

Tears stung her eyes. Merlin, how could she get so emotional over a girl she hadn't known very well?

_Maybe I should have tried to know her better, not take her for granted as someone I'd expect to see every day._

Her jaw quivered. _Too late for that._

"Rosa?"

She lifted her head to see Artimus staring at her, a concerned look on his face.

"Um, you okay?" he asked.

She shook her head. "No, Art. Nothing's okay any more."

**XXXXX**

Rosa peered around a tree, her eyes darting in all directions, looking for animals, noting Jared's location, watching out for Death Eaters or giants.

Cindy Walker's face popped into her mind's eye.

She groaned and leaned against the tree. It had been nearly a week since Mireet gave them the copy of _The All-Seeing Eye _that reported Cindy's murder.

_Why can't I get it out of my head?_

As usually happened, remembering Cindy Walker made her think of other classmates at Salem, people she'd been much closer with. Rana Rollingsworth, the Seeker for their dorm's Quidditch team. They'd been pretty good friends, though that friendship turned frosty when Rana broke up with Jimmy. Still she worried about her, as she did her former boyfriend Gregory Lancemore. He may have acted like Merlin's gift to witches, but he did have his moments where he could be genuinely sweet. Dante Marshall, Ursa Oberlin – Merlin, she'd been best friends with Cindy - Evelyn McAllister – she was another Muggle-born. _Please be safe – _Eli Witting, Abigail Aguirre. Were they all okay? Were any of them dead?

Her spine chilled when she thought about her friends in Britain. Ginny Weasley. They'd become so close in such a short period of time. What must she be going through at a Hogwarts controlled by Death Eaters? Harry Potter and Ron Weasley. Nobody knew where the hell they were. Nymphadora Tonks. She couldn't believe the young auror was pregnant. How the hell could anyone have a child with the world in chaos?

Then she thought of George Weasley.

Her throat constricted. Images flooded her mind. Their first kiss. Laughing at the dinner table. How he comforted her after the Diggorys' deaths. The night they made love.

She closed her eyes, wishing he could be here, his arms wrapped around her, his lips on hers, reassuring her he was still alive.

_Please be careful, George._

"Rosa. Comin'?"

Her eyes snapped open. Jared stood a few feet away, impatience etched in his face.

"Oh. Yeah. Sorry, just . . . nevermind."

She walked past her cousin, studying his unsmiling face. Jared had been in a sullen mood ever since they learned about Cindy's death. A couple times she tried to get him to open up, but he responded with a curt, "I'm fine," and tried to get as far away from her as possible.

_Maybe I'll try again tonight._ Right now, they had to concentrate on finding food.

A half-an-hour went by, and they'd only managed to get a couple squirrels. Their lack of success, and her grumbling stomach, fueled her frustration. Fear scratched at the back of her mind. Winter would be here soon. Many of the animals they caught for food would be hibernating. They would have to depend on Mireet more than ever at that point.

_And if anything happens to her . . ._

"You hear that?" Jared stopped, raising a hand.

Rosa stood perfectly still. She held her breath, listening.

A faint, horn-like sound filtered through the woods. What the hell could that be?

She heard it again. Not just one. Multiple sounds. Almost like . . . grunting?

She and Jared moved forward, wands raised. The noises weaved through the trees. She raised an eyebrow. It didn't sound like grunting any more. It sounded more like squealing.

"Check that out." Jared pointed between a pair of trees.

Rosa spotted a row of wooden stakes carved from thick tree branches. The squealing came from behind them.

_An animal pen?_ They cautiously walked toward it.

"Oh yeah." Jared's eyes lit up as he gazed over the stakes.

Rosa's stomach grumbled loudly. Her mouth watered at the sight before her.

Thirty pigs tromped around the pen, sticking their snouts in the dirt or slurping from a wooden water trough.

"Merlin's beard." Jared whispered in awe. "We've . . . we've got ourselves a feast. Hell, we've got ourselves a damn banquet!"

He grasped both of Rosa's shoulders and shook her in excitement. She nodded enthusiastically, thinking of gorging herself on the succulent meat before her. Judging from the size of some of these pigs, they'd probably have enough for leftovers.

She smiled wide, wondering who could have left these . . . pigs . . . here . . .

"Let's see." Jared looked over the pigs. "Which one looks the biggest and most delicious?"

"Jared, wait."

"Wait for what? We've got a damn meat market in front of us."

"Yeah. And how did it get here? Who would build a pig pen in the middle of the woods? What if it's a trap?"

"A trap? Oh jeez, will you quit thinking like an auror for two seconds? If we can eat pork tonight instead of birds and squirrels, then I say we do it."

"I don't like it." Rosa glared at the pen. "There's something suspicious about this."

"Then let's just grab one of these pigs before . . ."

_Crack!_

The cousins spun around.

A figure in a dark cloak stood six feet away.

_**TO BE CONTINUED**_


	9. Snap Decisions

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **_The following contains scenes of intense violence. You have been warned._

* * *

**CHAPTER 9: SNAP DECISIONS**

* * *

"Oh, Merlin," the robed figure gasped, wide eyes locked on Rosa and Jared. "Oh, Merlin!"

The stranger backed up, almost stumbling over his feet. His right hand went up. Could he be going for a wand?

"_Locomotor Mortis!"_

A bolt streaked from Rosa's wand and struck the figure. His legs locked together. Arms flailing, he fell on his back.

She bolted toward the fallen man, Jared right beside her.

"Please don't hurt me!" The man threw up his hands and cringed. "Please don't hurt me!"

Rosa and Jared stopped a couple feet from him. He had sandy blond hair, a goatee and a lean build. He also couldn't be much older than them.

"Who are you?" She kept her wand on him.

"I'm . . . I'm Arcturus Albright. Please don't hurt me." His breathing increased, as did his shaking.

Jared cleared his throat. Rosa glanced at him.

"Um, I don't think this guy's a Death Eater," he whispered.

Her eyes flickered back to Arcturus. Panic still gripped him. Jared was right. No way would a Death Eater behave like that.

"We're not going to hurt you. Okay?" She lifted her free hand in a non-threatening manner and lowered her wand. Then she looked to Jared and nodded. He also lowered his wand.

Arcturus' breathing calmed a bit. His face scrunched up. "Merlin's beard. I don't believe it. It's really you."

A bewildered look came over Rosa's face. She turned to Jared, who shrugged.

"You know us?" she asked Arcturus.

"Yeah. I mean, from the posters the Death Eaters put up."

"Posters?" Jared blurted. "What posters?"

"Death Eaters. They put wanted posters of you two up on some trees near my dad's farm. You're Rosa Infante and Jared Diaz."

"Do they have any other wanted posters up?" Rosa asked. "With other people?"

"Yeah, yeah. There's Jimmy O'Bannon and Artimus Rand and all these kids."

Rosa snorted. Well that confirmed it. That giant must have told his tribe about them, and they passed that information on to You-Know-Who's gang.

"I guess this shows how bad things are in this country," Jared grumbled. "Death Eaters run the newspapers and can put up their own wanted posters. Crap, does the Department of Magic even exist any more?"

The corners of Rosa's mouth twisted in anger. She took a step closer to Arcturus. "Do those posters say anything else about us?"

"Um, just that you're hiding somewhere in the Southern U.S., and that you're wanted for stealing magic from purebloods and corrupting wizarding society."

Jared sneered and shook his head.

Arcturus cast his eyes away from Jared's nasty look and continued. "They also say you're all traveling together, and they're offering a reward."

"How much?" asked Jared.

"Five thousand gold pieces."

He snorted. "I think we're worth twice that."

Rosa flashed a quick grin in response, then refocused on Arcturus. "What are you doing here? Did you build that pig pen?" She nodded behind her.

"Uh-huh."

"Why?"

"Because of the Death Eaters."

"You built this for them?" Jared visibly tensed.

"No no no!" Arcturus held up a hand. "No, me and my dad built this because of them."

"I'm not following," Jared said.

"Well, they started showing up a few weeks ago, putting up those posters. They came around to our farm, asking if . . . if we'd seen you."

His jaw quivered. Rosa frowned. She had a feeling the Death Eaters' questioning of Arcturus' family had been anything but gentle.

Arcturus took a couple deep breaths. "After they got done questioning us, they . . . they started taking some of our livestock. Dad begged them not to. I mean, that's our livelihood. But they . . . they used all kinds of curses on us." He shivered. "Even the . . . the Cruciatus."

A lump formed in Rosa's throat. She squatted beside Arcturus, who looked on the verge of tears. He flinched when she reached toward him.

"It's okay. I'm not gonna hurt you." Slowly, she lowered her hand on Arcturus' shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze.

His breathing came to a brief halt. He stared at her hand, then her face.

She gave him the warmest smile she could. Arcturus drew a slow breath, his eyes still locked on her face.

"So the pig pen," she began. "Why did you put it here in the middle of the woods?"

"'Cause the Death Eaters kept coming back and taking more of our livestock. They treated our farm like it was their own little market, except they don't pay." For the first time, a flash of anger crossed his face. "I hate 'em. I hate 'em!"

Rosa squeezed Arcturus' shoulder again. "Join the club."

That elicited a smile from him. "We built the pig pen up here so the Death Eaters couldn't get to it. So we'd have enough food for ourselves, and some animals to sell. 'Course, with this uprising, business has gone straight into the toilet."

She rubbed his shoulder for a few moments, then got to her feet. Arcturus flinched when she pointed her wand at his legs. With a flash of yellow light, Rosa broke the Leg Locker Curse.

"Thank you." Arcturus looked up at her before rising to his feet.

"You're welcome." She kept her eyes on the young man. An idea formed.

"Arcturus. I was wondering. Do you think you might be able to help us?"

**XXXXX**

"So you think we can trust this Arcturus guy?" Jimmy folded his arms and stared at her.

"I think so." Rosa nodded and glanced around. The quartet sat beside a tall tree away from the children, many of whom clustered around a big campfire, charmed to not be visible from a distance.

"What if he was lying?"

She didn't hesitate in shaking her head. "No way. There was nothing fake about his fear every time he mentioned the Death Eaters."

Jimmy pressed his lips together, staring at the ground for a few moments. He then looked to Jared. "What about you? You think this guy's for real?"

"To be honest, we only talked to him for maybe ten minutes. I don't think that's long enough for me to say I totally trust him. But, yeah, I'd have to go with Rosa. I don't think he was faking it. This guy's seriously scared of the Death Eaters."

"He hates 'em, too," Rosa added. "That's why I think we should use him."

"I-I don't know," Artimus spoke hesitantly. "I mean, we barely know him."

"Maybe, but one of our big priorities is having enough food for all of us. When we start running out of the stuff Mireet gives us, we have to forage. And we all know that a sparrow or a squirrel doesn't come anywhere close to filling our stomachs. With all the walking we do, we need as much food as possible to keep our strength up, especially the kids. A pig is certainly more filling than a bird."

"No argument there," Jimmy commented.

Rosa drew a short breath. "There's also something else I think we can use Arcturus for."

"What?" asked Jimmy.

"Since the Death Eaters are constantly coming to Arcturus' farm and taking his animals, we may want to consider using him as a spy."

Jared drew his head back. "You think he's up to that?"

"I'm sure we can convince him. He can tell us how many Death Eaters are around his area, who they are, and you never know when they might let something important slip. We can give this information to Mireet and she can pass it on to our parents. It's something we can do to help the Guild of the Light."

Jimmy let out a long breath and stared at the ground in deep thought. Rosa fixed her gaze on him, as did Jared and Artimus. She started to lean forward, waiting for Jimmy's answer.

Waiting.

Waiting.

Finally, he looked up. "That does sound tempting Rosa. Unfortunately, I'm gonna have to say no."

"But, Jimmy . . ."

He raised a hand. "Look, under any other circumstances, I'd go along with you. I'd love to have another source of food, and I'd love to be able to help the Guild of the Light. But your parents and Jared's parents made it clear. Our job is to keep these kids alive. And now that the Death Eaters know we're hiding in the Appalachians, the fewer people we come across, the better, especially if it's some guy who's being visited by Death Eaters on a regular basis. What if they start torturing him to get information on us? You think he can hold out?"

It was Jared who answered. "My mom told me that, when it comes to torture, everyone has their breaking point. It could be hours, days, weeks, months. Some people can take torture better than others. But in the end, Mom says everyone breaks."

"And how long do you think this Arcturus can last before he breaks?"

"From what I saw of him, minutes."

Jimmy sighed. "I'm sorry, Rosa. Much as I'd love to have another contact, the risk is too great."

She frowned. She'd be lying if she said Jimmy's concerns hadn't crossed her mind, too. But she felt the risk was worth it.

Still, Jimmy was their leader, and she'd respect his decision.

"So what do we do about Arcturus?"

Everyone looked to Artimus. His eyes darted among Rosa, Jared and Jimmy.

"Um, what I mean is, he saw you two. And if the Death Eaters interrogate him . . ."

Jimmy turned from Artimus to Rosa. "You said he's usually at the pen in the early afternoons?"

"Uh-huh." She nodded.

"Can you obliviate his memories of you and Jared?"

The corners of her mouth twisted. Even though she knew obliviation was necessary in some instances, it still bothered her. Altering someone's memories felt like a violation of their very being.

"Yeah, I can do it." Her tone sounded less than enthusiastic.

Jimmy's frowned. She knew him well enough to know obliviation didn't sit well with him, either.

"All right," he said. "Tomorrow, say around noon, you and Jared Apparate back to the pig pen, hide and wait for Arcturus to show up. When he does . . . well, you know what to do."

She and Jared nodded.

"Hey," Jared blurted. "Can we at least get a pig from this guy before we wipe out his memories of us?"

Jimmy grinned briefly. "If you guys can do it, do it. We need all the food we can get."

Rosa nodded. At least they'd get _something _out of their meeting with Arcturus Albright.

**XXXXX**

"Jeez, when's this guy gonna show?"

Rosa rolled her eyes. This was the . . . hell, she'd lost count of how many times Jared had asked her the same damn question since they got here.

"I'm not a Legilimens. I can't probe Arcturus' mind and find out when he plans on getting here."

Jared snorted and pressed himself against the fallen tree they hid behind. "Well I wish he'd show up already. I'm getting tired of waiting."

"What? You got a hot date tonight or something?"

He made a face at her. "I just don't like waiting for a long time."

"Well, in auror training, my instructors told me that sometimes when you're in the field, you can find yourself sitting and observing the same place for hours, maybe even days, before your target shows up."

"Oh, that makes me feel better."

"I didn't say it to make you feel better, I was stating a fact."

Jared just grunted and folded his arms, and waited.

And waited.

"What do you think our parents are doing?" Rosa asked after a very long period of silence.

Jared shrugged. "Kicking Death Eater ass, I'd guess."

"Yeah, but . . . I was thinking more what they're doing right now. Are they fighting? Are they having lunch? Are they thinking about us? Are they . . . hurt? Are they even living at home?"

"I kinda doubt they're home. I'd bet anything the Death Eaters have targeted the homes of every auror out there."

"Yeah." Rosa lowered her head. "Now you've got me wondering if our homes are even still standing."

Jared reached over to her and gave her arm a squeeze. "C'mon, Cuz. Have a little hope that -"

_Crack!_

Someone Apparated near the pig pen.

_Crack! Crack!_

Rosa tensed. _Three people?_

She and Jared peeked over the log. A chill went up her spine.

Arcturus lay a few feet from the pen. Two figures in black robes stood over him, one stocky and middle-aged, the other younger and muscular. Both smiled, though their smiles reflected evil, not joy.

_Death Eaters._

"What the hell?" Jared whispered.

Rosa turned to him and placed a finger to her lips.

The stocky Death Eater stared at the pig pen, then glared at Arcturus. "You've been holding out on us, you little germ. You've been keeping these pigs for yourself when they should be going to feed our comrades."

"I'm . . . I'm sorry." Arcturus trembled.

"Sorry! That's all you have to say?" The stocky Death Eater aimed his wand at Arcturus' knee. A red flash lit the air. A sickening _snap_ followed.

Arcturus screamed, gripping his knee and rolling from side to side.

Rosa held her breath. Instinct told her to cast curses of her own and take out these two slimeballs.

Then she remembered Jimmy's words about the fewer people who saw them, the better.

The stocky Death Eater stood over the wailing Arcturus. "We're trying to establish pureblood rule over this world. You think we can do that on empty stomachs? We need supplies. And you don't want to give them to us when we need them?"

Another red flash. A loud _snap _came from Arcturus' other leg.

Rosa shuddered. Her stomach burned with nausea.

_Do something._

But what if they couldn't take out both Death Eaters? What if one of them Apparated away?

_What about Arcturus?_

"Dammit, Rosa!" Jared whispered harshly. "What are we waiting for?"

She turned to him. Arcturus' cries grew louder.

_One man's life versus eighteen kids._

_We fought Death Eaters before. We can drop these assholes._

She remembered the fight in Ovenderburg two years ago. Yeah, they defeated those Death Eaters, but it hadn't been easy.

_What if one of them gets away?_

_We're more experienced than we were back then._

_What if they bring Death Eaters to search the mountains? What if they find the children?_

"Rosa, come on!" Jared growled.

"I think we need to teach this scum a lesson," said the younger Death Eater, a hint of sadistic glee in his tone. "You don't hoard food from _real _wizards fighting a war."

He aimed his wand at Arcturus. _"Sectumsempra!"_

A wet, sickening rip filled the air. Arcturus' arm below the elbow jumped into the air. Blood gushed from the stump.

"AHHHHH! OH MERLIN! AHHHHH!"

Rosa's jaw dropped. She shivered as the agonized screams battered her ears and pierced her soul.

"Dammit, Rosa! They're gonna kill him!" This time Jared shouted at her.

"Did you hear that?" The younger Death Eater turned in their direction.

His eyes locked on Rosa.

"_Redactor!"_

"_Protego!"_

The bolt from the Death Eater's wand exploded against Rosa's shield. More curses slashed through the woods. Sparks exploded from the log, starting small fires. Jared swept his wand across his body and fired off a barrage of spiked balls. The stocky Death Eater easily disintegrated them with a wave of his wand.

The cousins kept up their mini-barrage. Battering Spells, Fire Rash Hexes, Disarming Spells, Stunning Spells.

The Death Eaters blocked them all.

Arcturus lifted himself to a sitting position. His face, stained with tears, had turned chalk white. He gazed at his severed arm with wide eyes, watching the blood pour from the stump.

"Arcturus!" Rosa shouted. "Stay down!"

Arcturus just stared at his severed arm.

The younger Death Eater turned to him, a wide smile on his face.

"_Avada Kedavra!"_

A green bolt struck Arcturus. He jerked, then collapsed on his side.

"NOOO!" Both cousins screamed.

"REDACTOR!" Jared roared.

A fountain of dirt exploded in front of the younger Death Eater. He spiraled into the air. Part of his right leg flew away from the rest of his body. He fell onto the tightly bunched wooden stakes forming the fence. Two sharpened tips protruded through his back. The Death Eater didn't move.

The remaining Death Eater leaned against a tree, shaking his head.

Rosa jumped over the smoldering log, Jared following her.

"Don't move, damn you!" she shouted, wand raised.

The Death Eater looked at her, then grinned.

"_Stupefy!"_

The red Stunning Spell streaked toward the Death Eater.

_Crack! _He Apparated before it reached him.

"Dammit!" Fury burned within Rosa. She clenched her teeth as she stomped to where the Death Eater had been.

Then she glanced at Arcturus' body.

_Oh no._ Her jaw quivered. _No, no, no._

She started over to him.

"Rosa, c'mon!" Jared grabbed her arm.

"Jared, we gotta check -"

"He's dead! It's _Avada Kedavra._ He's dead. That son-of-a-bitch could be on his way back with a bunch more Death Eaters. We gotta go!"

Rosa's jaw stiffened. She nodded.

Moments later they Apparated away.

**XXXXX**

After Rosa and Jared returned to the others, the quartet Apparated the children three times before the sun set, hoping to put as much distance between them and any Death Eaters as possible. They ended up in a heavily wooded area somewhere in Central Virginia, where they set up camp and ate dinner.

Rosa barely ate. All she could think of was Arcturus screaming, and seeing him stare at his severed arm. She kept replaying the scene over and over in her head. How could she have debated with herself on whether or not to act? When the hell had she ever been so indecisive?

_I wasn't indecisive. There were just . . . other factors to consider._

She scanned the children around the encampment as they ate their dinner.

Arcturus' screaming echoed in her head.

_Did I do the right thing?_

Rosa volunteered for the first watch. She just didn't feel like being around people right now.

She started into the woods when someone yelled at her. "Rosa!"

She turned to find Jared tromping over to her.

"Jared, not now. I really don't want -"

"I don't care what you want." He waved his wand and cast a Muffling Charm. "What the hell happened to you back there today?"

"Look, you have to understand . . ."

"Understand what?" Jared threw his arms out to his sides. "Those friggin' Death Eaters were torturing Arcturus right in front of us_._ And you didn't do a damn thing!"

"I wanted to. But . . . but there were other things to consider."

"What other things?"

"The children! That's why we're up here. To keep them safe."

"We could have done that _and _saved Arcturus. Merlin's beard, you saw what they did to him. You saw what they did and you just watched!"

"You think it was easy for me? You think I didn't want to jump out there and blast those sons-of-bitches to dust? But I had to consider our options. Save one man or risk the lives of eighteen children. I had to consider what if one of those Death Eaters got away? What if they send more into the Appalachians and they find us? I had to think about those things, Jared."

Instead of understanding, his face contorted in anger. "After all the battles we've been in the last two years, you don't think we coulda gotten the drop on two Death Eaters and taken them out?"

"There was a risk . . ."

"When the hell did you start caring about risks? We explored troll caves when we were seven, for Merlin's sake! And in case you've forgotten, there's a war going on. If we have the chance to take out a couple of Death Eaters, then we should do it!"

"Like killing two Death Eaters will really change the course of this war."

"At least we'd be doing something!" Jared screamed in her face. "At least we'd be making a contribution to this war instead of being glorified babysitters! And if we had killed those Death Eaters the moment they showed up, Arcturus would still be alive!"

"I'm sorry, all right!" Rosa lunged at Jared, her nose inches from her cousin's. "I'm sorry! What more do you want me to say!"

"You're sorry? Fat lot of good sorry does Arcturus. Or Cindy Walker. Or Hector."

He whirled around and stalked back to the encampment.

Rosa's jaw quivered. Tears stung her eyes. Emotions spun out of control. Anger. Guilt. Outrage. Grief. Sorrow.

She turned and started walking. She managed three steps before she dropped to her knees and sobbed.

_**NEXT: TIGER TIGER BURNING BRIGHT**_


	10. Tiger Tiger Burning Bright

**CHAPTER 10: TIGER TIGER BURNING BRIGHT**

* * *

_How much longer is this gonna go on?_

O'Bannon's gaze shifted between Jared and Rosa, who sat on opposite sides of their encampment. He doubted the cousins had said more than five words to one another since their encounter with the Death Eaters a week-and-a-half ago. The times he'd tried to get them to reconcile, they had flatly refused.

"I'm sure they'll start speaking to each other again soon," Artimus said, apparently picking up on O'Bannon's prolonged stares at the cousins.

"Yeah," he grumbled.

Artimus sighed and picked at the small piece of chipmunk meat on his plate. He seemed to be taking Jared's and Rosa's iciness especially hard. Then again, back at Salem, Artimus always worried whenever any friction cropped up in their little quartet. O'Bannon wondered if it had to do with Artimus' upbringing. Outside of Hector, he'd never been close with anyone in his family. So when trouble arose that threatened the stability of his best friends, Artimus naturally be very worried.

_But we always worked out any differences between us._

Though O'Bannon couldn't recall a time when it took over a week to do so.

He finished his dinner quietly, then went around to the children, untransfiguring the plates and utensils of the ones who were done eating.

"Is that French witch gonna show up soon?" Vance groused with a thick air of indignation. "It only took a few bites for me to finish my dinner."

"_Mireet_ will be here eventually. And I already told you, we can't take as much time as before to forage. Not with Death Eaters crawling all around the Appalachians."

"But that was in the south. We're almost to New York now. We probably left all the Death Eaters behind. So how about looking longer for food before we all starve to death."

"Shut it, Vance!" O'Bannon thrust a finger at him. "We're all in the same boat when it comes to food. Just because your father's in the Wizarding Legislature doesn't make you special. So deal with it."

He stalked off before Vance could say another word . . . at least one he could hear. The little brat no doubt muttered several choice words about him under his breath. Whatever.

_Why didn't I kick him out of my hockey class before the world went to hell? _He had considered it. Vance's attitude had always been piss-poor. He seemed reluctant to follow instructions and always played selfishly during scrimmages, to the point he whined whenever he didn't get enough shots on goal. Hell, the only reason Vance participated in hockey was because his father made him, hoping it would help him garner the Muggle-born vote. He should have booted Vance out of his class from the get-go, but he never gave up on the hope that some of the qualities of a team sport – working together, respect, self-confidence – would ultimately rub off on him.

_Where does hope end and wishful thinking begin?_

O'Bannon finished reverting the plates and utensils to their original forms of rocks and twigs when a white light burst near him. It formed into a kestrel patronus. O'Bannon's heartbeat quickened.

Mireet was coming.

He met her outside the wards. After the usual exchange of security questions, he led her back to the encampment. The children jumped to their feet, smiling and talking excitedly as The quartet helped Mireet unpack the food.

"About time," Vance muttered as he approached.

O'Bannon fixed a harsh stare on him. Rosa did the same. So did Artimus! Vance had to be the world's ultimate brat to elicit that from Artimus Rand.

"Hi, Mireet!"

"How are you, Mireet?"

She smiled sweetly as Madson and Jonah bounded over to her. Jillian glowered at her older brother, as she always did when he greeted Mireet with his usual excitement.

"How are you all doing? I am sorry for not coming sooner. There has been a lot of fighting lately around the Mid-Atlantic and New England regions. The Death Eaters are sweeping through several states looking for Guild members and Department of Magic holdouts."

"So are we beating the friggin' Death Eaters or what?" Jared made no attempt to keep the edge out of his voice.

"In some places," Mireet answered. "The Guild made two successful ambushes in the Delaware Water Gap in New Jersey and near Wickford, Rhode Island. They believe they killed at least ten Death Eaters."

"All right!" Jared pumped his fist and smiled, the first time he'd smiled in over a week.

"Unfortunately, the Death Eaters also had their successes." Mireet lowered her eyes for a few moments. "They wiped out the family of an old auror in Vermont. A Phineus Feckleman."

"Mister Feckleman?" Rosa's jaw dropped in shock. Jared's wide eyes locked on Mireet.

"Did you know him?" Artimus asked.

"Yeah." Rosa nodded, still looking in a daze. "He was my mom's first boss when she finished her auror training."

"That guy was good. I mean real good." Jared looked to Artimus when he answered. "Crap! I can't believe the Death Eaters got him."

The corners of O'Bannon's mouth twitched. Mad-Eye Moody had been real good, too. And like this Feckleman, he also died. Though it took no less than Lord Friggin' Voldemort himself to finish Moody.

"There was also another death," Mireet said. "A former teacher of yours, according to Mrs. Diaz."

O'Bannon stiffened, his stomach turning into a lead ball. _Oh God, who is it?_

Mireet's pause seemed to last an eternity. "His name was Morris Hillenbrand."

"Mister Hillenbrand?" Artimus gasped.

O'Bannon closed his eyes and sighed. "Aw man. He was our Potions teacher. He retired when I was at Hogwarts, opened his own Apothecary in Maine."

"I don't believe this." Jared clenched his fists so tight they shook. "Merlin's sake, the guy was harmless. I mean, he knew his stuff, but he had no personality. Didn't do anything to stand out. Why kill him?"

"He was supplying the Guild of the Light with artifacts and potions ingredients to use in the war," Mireet told him. "Obviously the Death Eaters found out about it."

Guilt stung O'Bannon as he remembered all the jokes he used to tell about Mr. Hillenbrand. _"Hey. What's the difference between watching grass grow and listening to one of Mister Hillenbrand's lectures? Watching grass grow is more exciting."_

And now the guy was dead.

So Mr. Hillenbrand had been boring? So what? He had been nice enough. He never treated him or any of his classmates like the scum of the earth, unlike another former potions teacher of his on the other side of the Atlantic.

O'Bannon scowled. Friggin' Snape. If one of his former Potions teachers had to die, why couldn't it have been that SOB? The same SOB who killed Headmaster Dumbledore and now ran Hogwarts.

He sent a silent prayer to his friends in England, hoping they fared as well as can be under Voldemort's rule. He also hoped Harry Potter soon found a way to take out the evil bastard, and maybe, just maybe, off Snape, too.

When it came time for Mireet to leave, O'Bannon walked her past the wards. A spark of humor flickered inside him when he spotted Madson and Jonah waving good-bye to the former Beauxbatons student with forlorn looks.

"Is everything well between Rosa and Jared?" she asked as they stepped around a bush with only half its leaves. No doubt about it. Winter would be here soon.

"No. Everything is not well." O'Bannon kicked at the hardened dirt. "Dammit."

"From what you told me during my last visit, it must have been a difficult decision for Rosa to make. Save an innocent man and risk the lives of so many children, or let him die to protect their lives. I do not know what I would do faced with such a decision."

"Neither do I. That's the problem. There's no clear cut right or wrong I can come down on."

Mireet stepped closer to him. "Since I joined _Force d'Vigilant, _I have learned that sometimes in war, there are certain situations where there is no absolute right or wrong. Sometimes the only decisions at your disposal are difficult ones, and you must choose which one is the most . . . acceptable at the time."

"Yeah, I've found that out the hard way over the last two years."

"Then perhaps you should remind Jared and Rosa of that."

"I guess. I just hope they listen and patch things up."

"They will. They are family."

"I hope that's enough," O'Bannon said.

"It will be."

"Don't be so sure. Look at Fred and George's brother, Percy. When You-Know-Who came back, and the British Ministry of Magic was denying it, Percy dropped his family and marched in lockstep with the Ministry because his career mattered more to him than his family. That was two years ago. I don't even know if Percy and the rest of the Weasleys are back on speaking terms."

"Yes. I suppose." A sorrowful look formed on Mireet's beautiful face.

"Sorry." He gently grasped her shoulder. "I didn't mean to sound like such a buzzkill."

"A what?" Her face scrunched in confusion.

"A buzzkill. You know, like, a killjoy."

Now Mireet appeared even more bewildered.

"Um, a downer. Mood killer."

"Oh. I think I understand." Mireet nodded. "_Boozzz-keel. _I am always amazed at the various ways you Americans and the English are able to . . . er, devolve your own language."

O'Bannon chuckled, a chuckle that soon grew into a full-blown laugh.

And Mireet laughed right along with him.

He shook his head, unable to believe he stood in the middle of the woods, in the middle of the war, laughing his ass off with the most beautiful woman he'd ever met.

"Thanks, Mireet. I think I needed that."

"Fred and George would be proud of you, to be able to laugh in the midst of so much chaos." The smile slowly faded from her face. "Do you think they are all right?"

"Fred and George? Hey, they may be the two biggest goofballs we've ever met, but they're also pretty resourceful. If anyone can get through this war alive, those two can."

"Yes. I think you are right."

Mireet reached out and gave his hand a gentle squeeze. An airy feeling formed in his stomach.

"I must go. _Au revoir, _Jimmy."

"_Au revoir, _Mireet."

They hugged and kissed each other on both cheeks. His insides collapsed when he finally released her. A lump formed in his throat as he watched Mireet back up, smiling, giving him a little wave.

_Crack!_

And she was gone.

Every ounce of joy he'd felt mere moments ago was sucked out of his body. His eyes fixed on the spot where Mireet had stood. He both loved and hated these nights when she came. Loved being able to see her and talk with her, but hated the fact her visits were so brief.

_Damn this war. _If friggin' Cornelius Fudge had taken action the moment Voldemort came back, rallied the entire Wizarding World against him, then O'Bannon, his friends and these kids wouldn't be here in the Appalachians. Hector Rand, Cindy Walker and Mister Hillenbrand would still be alive. He and Mireet could be together.

He closed his eyes and imagined a warm beach, the waves rolling over the sand, the setting sun turning the sky brilliant shades of red and orange. Then he pictured himself with Mireet, walking hand-in-hand, the foamy water washing over their feet. She turned to face him. They kissed. Not cheek-to-cheek. On the lips. Long, passionate. They lay together on a blanket, stripped their clothes off and made love. Then he held her in his arms as they watched the sun finally disappear on the horizon.

"I love you, Jimmy O'Bannon," she whispered in his ear.

"I love you, Mireet Miradeaux," he whispered back.

When he opened his eyes, the beach, and Mireet, vanished. Dark woods surrounded him.

Reality surrounded him.

He forced the fantasy from his mind and headed back to the encampment.

Another mass Apparation took them further north, near the town of Tunkhannock, Pennsylvania, along the banks of the Susquehanna River. There they would sleep for the night. Tomorrow they'd keep moving north, into New York State, and hopefully stay several steps ahead of any Death Eaters looking for them.

Jared headed into the woods, taking first watch. O'Bannon walked among the children, wrapped up in their thick blankets. A few had already fallen asleep. Kyon and Deanna tossed and turned a bit. At least they didn't lie there, eyes open wide with fear, as they did their first couple weeks on the run. Even city kids like them eventually got used to life in the wilderness.

"Coach Jimmy?" A little voice called to him. He looked down and saw Holly's head poking out of her blanket.

"Yeah, sweetie." He bent down next to her.

"I don't feel very sleepy. Could you tell me a story?"

"Sure I can." He didn't feel the same trepidation like when he first became Holly's official bedtime storyteller. Besides, he knew enough Boston sports history, and could put his own wacky twists on them, to keep her entertained for a long time.

_Hopefully not too long._

He pushed aside thoughts of the war and started. "All right. Here's one. Once upon a time, there was a grand garden, and in this garden lived a tall, fair-haired man known as . . . The Birdman. And the Birdman ruled this garden in the sport of basketball. But one day, the garden was invaded by these big, ugly people who wore hideous jerseys of purple and yellow."

"Purple and yellow?" Holly crinkled her face. "Who wears that?"

"The evil Lakermen, who stomped through the garden as if they owned it, because they all had the attitude that they were God's gift to basketball, and that everyone should bow down to their supposed greatness and worship all the glamorous celebrities who came to their games and didn't know squat about the game."

Holly giggled.

"Now, the Birdman wasn't intimidated by these yellow and purple bozos. He walked right up to their leader, Mister Magic, and told him -"

A white light flashed nearby. O'Bannon's head snapped up. A tiger patronus stood before him.

"Jimmy." Jared's voice came from the ethereal animal's mouth. "I think I heard something. Follow my patronus."

"Coach Jimmy? What is it?" Worry set in on Holly's face.

"Don't worry. It's probably nothing. I'll go check it out."

He patted Holly on the head and got to his feet. Jared's tiger patronus loped through the encampment. Several of the children eyed it as it walked past.

So did Rosa and Artimus.

"Get the children ready to move," he whispered as he went by his friends. "Just in case."

They both nodded.

O'Bannon followed the patronus into the woods. Less than a minute later he found Jared, squatting near a tree, wand at the ready.

"What is it?" he whispered, kneeling beside him.

"I heard something." Jared stared at the shadowy trees and bushes before them.

"What?"

"A couple twigs snapping. I swore I heard something growl."

Tension crawled over O'Bannon's skin. He didn't move a muscle. He scanned the darkened woods, looking and listening for any movement.

A breeze rustled leaves and branches. Could that be what Jared had heard?

_No way._ Jared wouldn't have called him because of blowing leaves. He and Rosa grew up in a rural area of Massachusetts. The cousins would certainly know the difference between rustling leaves and an animal.

O'Bannon looked and listened.

Nothing.

"You sure you heard -"

_Snap!_

He held his breath. Goosepimples sprouted up and down his arms.

_Snap!_

Jared pointed to their right.

A low, throaty growl filtered through the trees.

O'Bannon wracked his brain, wondering what it could be. A bear? A werewolf?

The thing growled again.

"Sounds like it's just outside the wards," Jared whispered.

O'Bannon nodded.

Another footfall. Another growl. He shivered. What the hell was out there? And what should they do about it? Stay here and wait for it? Go out and try to find it? He'd seen enough horror movies to know what a bad idea that was.

_Maybe it'll just pass by and -_

O'Bannon's wand vibrated. A mist of white energy burst from its tip. Jared's, too. Something just tripped the wards.

Bursts of light exploded among the trees, mixed with shrill whistles. Furious roars added to the chaos of light and noise.

The mists from their wands took form, something that resembled a cross between a cat and a porcupine.

"You gotta be kidding me," Jared stammered.

Movement caught O'Bannon's eye, directly ahead of him. The flashing lights of the security wards illuminated a large animal charging at them. It roared and leaped.

"_Protego!" _Jared shouted.

The Shield Charm formed in front of them. The animal slammed into it and dropped to the ground. It quickly got to its feet.

O'Bannon stared at it with wide eyes. The beast was the size of a tiger, though with coal black skin. Long sharp spikes covered its body from head to tail. It roared again and swatted the shield.

He couldn't believe he stood barely six feet away from a setagotha.

It jumped and slashed again at the shield. O'Bannon flinched, then raised his wand. Fireballs sprang from the tip. They struck the ground near the setagotha, erupting in a curtain of flames. The beast roared and backed away.

O'Bannon maneuvered toward the edge of the shield, trying for a clear shot at the setagotha.

It reared back and jumped.

He ducked. A _whoosh _filled his ears as the setagotha soared over him. He spun around.

The big cat clung to the side of a tall tree. It growled, then jumped to another tree, and another. Despite its size, the thing leaped from tree to tree with the ease of a monkey.

"Oh crap!" O'Bannon blurted. "It's heading for the others!"

They ran after it, bolts flying from their wands. The tops of trees exploded or melted or turned to ice. The setagotha avoided each spell.

O'Bannon touched his wand to his throat. "ROSA! ARTIMUS!" His magically amplified voice boomed through the woods. "SETAGOTHA COMING YOUR WAY!"

Seconds later a Flare Charm burst over the encampment, illuminating the setagotha. It paused on one of the trees.

"_Freezium!"_ O'Bannon cried out.

"_Reducto!"_ Jared hollered.

Ice coated the setagotha's rear legs. It roared and fell from the tree a split second before Jared's Reductor Curse struck. The top half of the tree exploded into splinters.

The setagotha landed on its feet, slipping a bit. It jerked its rear legs into the air and slammed them back to the ground. The ice coating them shattered.

Rosa hit it with a Body-Bind Curse. Artimus cast a Stunning Spell. The setagotha staggered but didn't go down.

"The underbelly!" Jared yelled. "Go for the underbelly! That's where it's vulnerable!"

Screams erupted from the other side of the encampment. O'Bannon spotted the children running into the woods to their designated safe zones. He glanced around, not seeing any stragglers. It appeared Daedalus and Kyon had done well taking charge of the kids.

The setagotha leapt through the encampment. O'Bannon cast a Freezing Charm and coated a large section of ground with ice. The beast avoided it, as well as a pair of Reductor Curses from Rosa and Artimus.

It drew closer to the children.

_No! _O'Bannon flicked his wand. A thick rope shot from the tip and wrapped around one of the setagotha's rear legs. Rosa, Jared and Artimus also cast Rope Charms, lassoing each leg. The setagotha roared and twisted, its spiky tail slashing through the air. O'Bannon's chest clenched when he saw three small silhouettes fall to the ground.

_Please, God. Please let them be okay. _He remembered from his Care of Magical Creatures classes back at Salem that a setagotha's spikes were coated with deadly poison.

Relief coursed through him when he saw all three silhouettes get up and start running.

The setagotha jerked wildly. O'Bannon gasped as he flew off his feet. He caught brief glimpses of Artimus and Jared flying through the air before he struck the ground. Pain hammered his body. He gritted his teeth and ignored it. Years of playing hockey made him used to taking nasty spills.

_Wand? Where's my wand?_ He spotted it on the ground a few feet away. He crawled toward it.

"Rosa! Look out!" Jared hollered.

O'Bannon looked up. He saw Rosa sitting up. The setagotha crouched, then leapt at her.

Grunting, he sprang for his wand.

The setagotha started to descend.

Horror consumed him. He'd never cast a spell in time.

Rosa yelled something. In one motion she slashed her wand toward the sky and rolled away. Huge stone spikes shot out of the ground.

The setagotha landed on them.

O'Bannon just stared at the unmoving beast. Three large, stone spikes protruded from its back. He blinked a couple times, digesting everything. It was dead. The setagotha was really dead.

"Rosa!" Jared hurried over to his cousin, Artimus behind him. O'Bannon got up and hurried over to them.

Rosa was on her feet by the time Jared reached her.

"Rosa? You okay?"

"You honestly care?" she snapped.

"Merlin's beard, what kind of question is that? Of course I care!"

The world seemed to stand still. Jared and Rosa stared at each other, not saying a word.

They practically jumped at one another, wrapping each other in crushing embraces.

"I'm sorry." Jared's voice cracked slightly. "I was just so pissed and you . . . I knew that couldn't have been easy for you. But I just wanted to be pissed at someone, and . . . I'm sorry, Rosa."

She said nothing, just buried her face in Jared's shoulder.

O'Bannon motioned to Artimus to give the cousins their space. They walked away. He eyed the setagotha, an irrational fear creeping through him, like he expected the monster to suddenly move.

It didn't. He thought of that great line Sean Connery had in the movie _The Untouchables. _"He's deader than Julius Caesar."

"Nothing like a little life or death situation to resolve your differences." He said to Artimus when they were well out of earshot of the cousins.

"I don't get it." Artimus shook his head, his gaze locked on the dead monster. "What's a setagotha doing here? They're native to the Pacific Northwest and Western Canada."

O'Bannon remained silent. He sure as hell had no answer to that. He recalled everything he could on setagothas from his Care of Magical Creatures classes. The furthest east anyone had ever seen one was Montana, and that was still twenty-five hundred miles from here.

_So how did it get here?_ That answer was obvious. Someone brought it to Pennsylvania. But who? Could there be a wizard or witch around these parts who collected exotic magical animals? Maybe it escaped.

"So does anyone know how a friggin' setagotha wound up here in Pennsylvania?"

Jared's voice snapped O'Bannon out of his reverie. He looked up to see the cousins approaching.

"That's what me and Artimus have been trying to figure out. I'm thinking maybe it got loose from a private zoo or something."

"Hah!" Jared scoffed. "My dad's had a few run-ins with setagothas. What wizard or witch in their right mind would keep one of those things for a pet?"

"You never did get to know Hagrid really well when we were over in England, did you?"

Jared responded with a brief chuckle. "Seriously, though, why would anyone want to bring a setagotha clear across country? They're vicious, they're covered with poisonous spikes . . ."

"They're good hunters."

Jared turned to Rosa. "What?"

"C'mon, Jared. Between Care of Magical Creatures and your father, you should know plenty about setagothas."

"Well sure they're good hunters. They have a keen sense of smell. They can hear a deer fart a mile away. Great eyesight, especially at night."

"And that's why the Death Eaters tried to use them as hunting animals during the first war."

Jared drew his head back. "Yeah, they did. But they were only able to train a handful of 'em. The other ones, well, training setagothas turned out not to be conducive to a Death Eater's survival."

"But," Rosa raised a finger. "They didn't have the _Bestia Pareo _Potion back then."

O'Bannon remembered that potion from his final year at Salem. It could tame the most dangerous magical beasts in the world.

"That potion only lasts for a short time, though," Jared pointed out. "Sometimes it doesn't even work at all if the animal's really, really nasty."

"Who's to say the Death Eaters didn't make a few modifications to it?" Rosa walked over to the dead setagotha. She waved her wand over it. Dancing multi-colored lights floated over the animal, reminding O'Bannon of an Aurora Borealis. Rosa studied the different colors.

"Yup. This thing's loaded with _Bestia Pareo. _It's got a few other animal training spells on it, too. Some pretty brutal ones by the look of it. No Locator Charms, thank Merlin. So the Death Eaters don't know where it is, or better yet, where we are."

"But if the Death Eaters let it loose, how are they supposed to know if it got anyone?" asked Artimus.

"They may have trained it to come back with evidence of a kill," Jared answered. "An arm or a leg or something."

"It would make sense." Rosa continued staring at the setagotha. "The Death Eaters have operations going on all over the U.S. They can't afford to send a whole army into the Appalachians after us. Easier for them to release a bunch of setagothas and let them do their dirty work."

"Setagothas, trolls, giants, werewolves, maybe even an imported Wendigo or two." Jared scowled. "Who knows what else they have in these mountains looking for us."

"Well those things have to have handlers," O'Bannon said. "Who knows how far away they might be. I think it might be a good idea if we do another mass Apparation right now, just in case -"

"Jimmy!"

Daedalus' shout pierced the air. O'Bannon held his breath. The urgency in the boy's tone frightened him.

Hesitantly, he turned.

Daedalus stood ten feet away, holding something in his arms. Something that looked human.

O'Bannon ran toward him. His friends were right behind him. He skidded to a stop in front of Daedalus.

_Oh my God. Oh God, no._

Cradled in Daedalus' arms was the limp body of Holly Juniper.

_**TO BE CONTINUED**_

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **_The setagotha is an original creation of mine. It is based on 19__th__ Century tall tales from the Western United States of a creature called a Cactus Cat. I merely took this humorous legend and turned it into a deadly monster. The name setagotha is derived from several non-English words for "cat" and "spear."_


	11. Crossing The Line

**CHAPTER 11: CROSSING THE LINE**

* * *

"I don't know what happened." Panic rose in Daedalus's voice. "I saw her duck when that setagotha swung its tail, and she got up and ran. But . . . but then she got all wobbly and fell down."

O'Bannon froze, staring at Holly's still form in Daedalus' arms. Tears filled the young boy's eyes, eyes that bore in on him, pleading with him to do something.

He took Holly from Daedalus and laid her on the ground. "Holly? Holly! Can you hear me? Holly!"

No response.

Fear consumed O'Bannon. Was she dead? No! She couldn't be dead.

_Get it together. Panicking won't help Holly._

He bent over, his ear hovering over Holly's mouth and nose. _Please . . . . please._

He heard a raspy breath come from her mouth.

_Thank you, God. Thank you._

His elation was short-lived. Holly still breathed, but her breathing sounded strained.

"What's wrong with her?" Artimus' voice cracked.

"I don't know." O'Bannon unzipped Holly's jacket as Rosa knelt across from him, the tip of her wand glowing. They both checked her from head to toe. Neither one could find any visible wounds.

"Turn her over," Rosa ordered.

Gently, he started to turn the little girl on her side.

"Oh God." His heart skipped a beat when he saw a jagged tear in the back of Holly's jacket, a tear stained with blood.

"It got her." O'Bannon trembled. "Oh my God, it got her."

Gasps sounded around him. He looked up to find several of the other children standing behind Daedalus. Kyon, Jillian and Deanna were all in tears. Willie visibly shook. Vance stared at Holly, mouth agape.

"Jared!" Rosa looked up at her cousin. "Get me a bezoar from the healing pack. Now!"

He nodded and took off running.

O'Bannon looked to Artimus. "Art! Get the kids outta here."

Artimus nodded, his gaze locked on Holly. He took a slow breath and moved in front of the children. "Um, c'mon, everyone. Let's give them some room."

"Is Holly gonna be okay?" asked Jillian.

"Is . . . is she dead?" asked Crea.

"Uh, she'll be fine." Artimus herded the kids to the other side of the encampment.

O'Bannon prayed his friend was right.

"Got it!" Jared hurried toward them, waving a dark, kidney-shaped stone. He dropped to his knees and handed it to Rosa, who put the bezoar in Holly's mouth and got her to swallow it.

O'Bannon wrapped his hand around Holly's, staring at her face. Waiting . . . waiting . . .

_What's taking so long? Bezoars are supposed to work fast._

Holly flinched and took a long, wheezing breath. She coughed and took another long breath.

"Thank God." O'Bannon lowered his head. He sighed and looked up at Rosa and Jared. "Good work, guys. That was a close one."

Neither of the cousins appeared relieved.

"What? C'mon, you gave her a bezoar. She's fine now."

"Actually, she's not," Jared said in a sober tone.

"What'd you mean?"

"All we did was slow the poison from spreading. We didn't get rid of it."

"What the hell are you talking about?" O'Bannon snapped. "It's a bezoar. It cures poisoning."

"Jimmy," Rosa spoke up. "Remember what they taught us in Potions Class? A bezoar can take care of _most _poisons. Setagotha poison is one kind it can't cure."

Paralysis gripped him. He didn't want to believe what Rosa just said. Several moments passed before he tore his eyes from her and looked down at Holly. The girl moaned, her head lolling from side-to-side. He pictured all the times she smiled and laughed when he told her bedtime stories. And now she . . .

"No. No way. She is _not _dying. There's gotta be something we can do."

"Not out here," Rosa said. "Not with the stuff we have in our healing pack. Our only chance is to get her to a healer."

"Then that's what we'll do." O'Bannon reached into his jacket and pulled out his magical map.

"_Lumos!"_ He held his lighted wand over the map, scanning for any wizarding communities within Apparation range.

He found one! A little place called Filfylum, near of the Muggle town of Williamsport, Pennsylvania.

"Here!" He jabbed the map, showing it to Rosa and Jared. "Filfylum. It may be small, but it should have a healer or a nurse. All wizarding communities have at least one, right?"

The cousins both nodded.

"At least I hope so," said Jared. "With the war going the way it is, who knows?"

O'Bannon wanted to rip Jared a new one for thinking so negatively. Unfortunately, his friend had a good point.

"Jimmy," Rosa said. "Are you sure there isn't another wizarding town we can take Holly to?"

"No. This is the only one within Apparation range. Why?"

"Because of this." Rosa pointed to the image of Filfylum.

O'Bannon furrowed his brow. He leaned closer to the map.

That's when he saw it fluttering around the town.

_Dammit, no!_

His eyes locked on the faint outline of a snake wrapped around Filfylum.

That meant Death Eaters in the town.

"Son-of-a-bitch!" Jared scowled at the map. "What the hell do we do now?"

O'Bannon held his breath, still staring at the snake. He noted how faint the illustrated serpent was. He'd seen towns on this map where the color of the constricting snake had been much darker. Maybe only one or two Death Eaters stayed in the town. Or maybe they just passed through from time to time.

"We don't have a choice. We gotta risk it, otherwise Holly's . . ." O'Bannon couldn't bring himself to finish the sentence.

"We're gonna have to move fast once we get there." Rosa's eyes flickered from O'Bannon to Holly. "I learned in auror training that Apparating someone who's injured or poisoned will worsen their condition."

"What do you mean _we? _I need you here to help Jared and Artimus Apparate everyone to Rally Point B. I want to be long gone in case any Death Eaters show up here."

"You're gonna be busy carrying Holly. You need someone to watch your back."

He opened his mouth to argue, then glanced down at Holly. She lay on the ground, moaning softly.

_Every minute you waste arguing with Rosa . . ._

"Okay, fine. Rosa, you're with me. Jared, you and Artimus Apparate these kids to Rally Point B."

"You got it." Jared nodded.

O'Bannon scooped up Holly. He closed his eyes as Rosa stepped next to him.

_Filfylum._

A _crack _filled his ears. His body felt pulled in a thousand different directions.

The disorientation quickly faded. He opened his eyes.

The darkened forms of log cabins greeted him. Some had been built at odd angles, other had multiple stories precariously balanced on one another.

Holly gasped and shook in his arms.

"There!" Rosa said in a hushed voice, pointing at the middle of the dirt road, the only road in this little community. A wooden sign post stood there, a carving of a human arm atop it.

She sprinted toward the sign post. O'Bannon followed, glancing at Holly every few moments. Her mouth hung open, emitting raspy breaths. Fear lashed his insides. What if Holly died in his arms?

_She's only seven years old. She can't die. Please, God, don't let her die._

Rosa stopped next to the sign post and looked up at its wooden arm. "Healer."

The arm turned a complete 180. O'Bannon had seen similar magical direction sign posts in the wizarding town of Ovenderburg near the Salem Witches Institute.

The arm stopped, angling to the right. He scanned the row of log cabins. It appeared the healer's home was the fourth one from where they stood.

Rosa placed a hand on his shoulder. "Let's go. We got lights coming from a few windows. Let's just hope no one's looking outside. Try to stick to the shadows."

He nodded and hurried toward the log cabins on their right. They stuck close to the walls, ducking under the one lighted window they came across.

O'Bannon's arms began to ache. He knew it would be easier to levitate Holly, but he was reluctant to do so. He felt it important she have some sort of physical contact, let her know someone was helping her, caring about her, hopefully giving her the will to hang on just a little longer.

He stopped in front of a door with a carved wooden plaque. MILO BRONSKI: TOWN HEALER.

Rosa banged on the door. She then looked from side-to-side, wand raised. O'Bannon also scanned the little community, teeth clenched, praying no Death Eaters appeared.

Agonizingly long seconds passed. No one came to the door. Rosa banged on it again.

"Wh-Who's there?" a male voice asked from behind the door.

"We need your help," O'Bannon replied. "We have a little girl who's dying."

"Who are you?"

He bit his lower lip. The last thing he wanted to do was tell the healer their names, not when they were on the Death Eaters most wanted list.

"Look. There's a _seven year old girl_ here who is dying. She got attacked by a setagotha."

"You're lying. There are no setagothas on the East Coast."

Holly wheezed.

"Damn you!" O'Bannon kicked the door. "Let us in now! She's gonna die!"

"Just go-go away. Please. I don't want any trouble."

"Stand back." Rosa demanded.

He stepped aside. Rosa slashed her wand in front of her a couple times. Swirls of colors and ghostly mists appeared around the door.

"Merlin's beard." She shook her head. "Talk about piss-poor security wards."

A flash of orange and a flash of gold leapt from Rosa's wand and struck the door. It flew open.

O'Bannon rushed inside. Rosa followed, shutting the door behind her. They stood in a foyer leading to a spacious living room with several couches and chairs, a fireplace and a couple curio cabinets featuring framed photos. A paunchy man with thinning black hair stood near one of the upholstered chairs, eyes wide with fear. This had to be Healer Bronski.

"Please don't hurt me." He held up his hands. "Please. Just take whatever you want."

"We don't want anything," O'Bannon snapped. "We just want you to help this girl here."

Bronski's mouth opened and closed wordlessly.

"Dammit, c'mon! She got scratched by a setagotha spike. She's dying."

"But-but setagothas aren't native to -"

"Well one of them did make to the East Coast! Now give her the antidote before it's -"

"_Expelliarmus!"_

O'Bannon whipped his head around. Rosa pointed her wand toward the hallway. A squat woman with short brown hair and a round face stood there, a wand lying several feet from her.

"Who . . . who are you people?" The woman stammered. "We haven't done anything."

"Please don't hurt my wife." Bronski took a staggered breath.

"Is there anyone else in this house?" Rosa asked, her gaze shifting from the woman to Bronski.

The healer stood still for a few seconds. "Um . . . uh, no. There's n-no one else."

"You're lying." Rosa narrowed her eyes at him.

"For God's sake!" O'Bannon yelled. "Will you just help her?" He held out Holly.

"I . . . I don't . . ."

O'Bannon drew a breath, ready to scream again.

"Mommy?" A tired, female voice reached his ears. "What's going on?"

He turned to the hallway. A little girl around Holly's age with dark curly hair and wearing a white nightdress appeared, rubbing her eyes with her little fists.

"Olivia!" The woman cried out. "Go back to your room now!"

"Everybody stay put!" O'Bannon hollered.

The woman reached out and pulled Olivia against her.

"M-Merlin." Bronski's face lit up in recognition. "I-I've seen you. Those wanted posters. You're Jimmy O'Bannon and Rosa Infante."

"Yes we are." He stepped closer to the healer. "Now help this girl."

Bronski eyed Holly for a few seconds, then looked up at O'Bannon. He trembled as he spoke. "I . . . I can't."

"What the hell do you mean you can't? You're a healer."

"The Death Eaters are looking for you. There's always at least one in town. Stays at Gordon Grescamp's tavern. If they find out we've had you in our house, they'll kill us. All of us."

"Look. Just heal her and we'll go, and you'll never see us again. Please."

Bronski took another look at Holly. Moisture welled up in his eyes. He then looked into the hallway at his wife and daughter.

"I can't," he sobbed. "I'm sorry. I can't. My family."

Rage boiled inside O'Bannon. He looked down at Holly. She barely moved. Her skin was pale, almost chalk white.

He stomped over to a nearby couch and laid Holly on it. Reaching into his jacket pocket, he yanked out his wand and advanced on Bronski. The healer gasped and leaned back.

"Help her now!" His wand hovered inches from Bronski's head.

Tears slid down the healer's face. His entire body shook.

Disgust slithered through O'Bannon. He couldn't believe he was threatening an innocent man like this, terrorizing his family. This is what Death Eaters did. But Holly was dying, and this man was the only one who could save her.

_Why couldn't there be another way?_

"Help her!" He bared his teeth. "Help her or . . . or I swear I'll do a Cruciatus Curse on you!"

Bronski choked on his breath. "Please, I can't! Do you know what the Death Eaters are like? They torture people in the middle of the street just for fun. They took a woman here into the woods and . . . and no one ever saw her again. I can't help you. I'm sorry. I wish I could, but I'm sorry."

O'Bannon clenched his teeth. How long did he have to make threats before this guy finally agreed to help Holly? How much longer did Holly have left?

He didn't have time to break this guy. He had to go with another tactic.

_Crap, can I really do it?_

He imagined journeying through the Appalachians without Holly, no longer hearing her laughter when he told her bedtime stories. He imagined her parents, wondering what they would say if he did not do everything in his power to bring their daughter back alive.

_God forgive me._

O'Bannon marched away from Bronski and toward the hallway. The healer's wife clutched little Olivia tightly against her.

He paused, studying the two. His heart went out to the mother. How scared must this woman be? _And we're scaring her._

_And Holly is gonna die._

He flicked his wand. The woman's arms suddenly rose over her head, releasing Olivia. O'Bannon reached out and pulled the girl away from her.

"Olivia! No!" The mother rushed at him. O'Bannon cast Jelly Leg Jinx on her. Her legs quivered and she dropped to the floor.

"No, please!" Bronski begged. "Not my daughter!"

"Jimmy?" Rosa hissed. "What the hell?"

He gripped the back of Olivia's nightdress and held his wand over the girl's shoulder. "I'm through playing games! Either help Holly, or I'll do the Cruciatus on your daughter!"

"Leave her alone!" the mother screamed.

"For Merlin's sake!" Bronski cried. "She's just a little girl!"

"Jimmy." Rosa whispered out the corner of her mouth. "Don't -"

He turned to her and gave her a quick wink, hoping she understood.

Olivia started crying. Each sob stabbed at O'Bannon's heart.

_How the hell can you do this?_

_Holly. Holly is all that matters._

"You think I'm joking?" He yelled at Bronski. "You've got to the count of five! One!"

"Please, I'm begging you!" Bronski appeared ready to fall on his knees.

"Two!"

"Please don't hurt her! The Death Eaters will kill us if we help you."

"Three!" _For God's sake, say yes!_

Olivia cried louder.

"Don't hurt my baby!" the mother shrieked.

"Four!" A lump formed in O'Bannon's throat. Could he actually say, "Five?" And if he did, what then?

He glared at Bronski, now a trembling, weeping mass.

_C'mon. Dammit, c'mon!_

Bronski said nothing. The man's teary eyes pleaded with him.

O'Bannon drew a breath through his nose. His mouth started to open.

"No, please!" Bronski held up a hand. "I'll do it! I'll do it!"

O'Bannon almost sagged in relief, but managed to keep composure. He immediately released Olivia, who ran to her mother. The two threw their arms around one another.

"Where do you want me to take her?" He picked up Holly from the couch.

"Th-This way." Bronski walked toward the rear of the living room.

O'Bannon turned to Rosa. "Watch them." He nodded toward the mother and Olivia, who still hugged one another.

Rosa didn't say a word. She just glared at him.

He followed Bronski through his house until they got to a rather spacious room with two beds and several glass cabinets containing jars, bottles, boxes and cauldrons. He put Holly in one of the beds and stood off to the side as Bronski stood in front of a bookshelf and pulled out a book. He put it on the counter next to the sink and opened it.

"I'm sorry. The antidote for setagotha poison isn't something I make often. I-I haven't made it since healer training."

"Just . . . just hurry." O'Bannon's voice was softer than when he had threatened the healer and his family. _I can't believe I did that._

Bronski raced from one cabinet to another, grabbing various ingredients and putting them in a cauldron. O'Bannon kept glancing from the healer to Holly. His heart beat fast with fear. Holly barely moved. Bronski took forever to make the damn antidote. He refrained from yelling at the healer. The guy had to know what he was doing.

_I hope._

__ "There! It's done!" Bronski poured the concoction into a glass and hurried over to Holly. He lifted her head, put the glass to her lips and poured the dark liquid down her throat.

O'Bannon strode over to the bed. He stared at Holly, holding his breath.

She lay still.

His stomach collapsed. Did they not give her the antidote in time? No! They couldn't have. They couldn't have gone through all that just to . . .

Holly coughed. She opened her eyes and took a ragged breath. Her next few breaths sounded stronger. She slowly sat up, her eyes finding him.

"Coach Jimmy." Her face scrunched as she looked around. "Where are we?"

He said nothing. Just smiled, and clenched his teeth to keep from crying. He leaned down and hugged Holly tight. "You're all right now. Thank God, you're all right."

He continued hugging her as he looked up at Bronski. "Thank you."

The healer stared back at him, unsmiling. "She'll be fine. Now please leave."

O'Bannon nodded and turned back to Holly. "Are you okay to walk?"

"Yeah. Sure I am."

He smiled and helped her off the bed. They both walked to the front of the house and met up with Rosa, whose eyes lit up when she saw Holly.

"I was so worried about you." She wrapped her up in a big hug.

"Leave. Please." Bronski begged them. "Out the back door."

O'Bannon nodded for Rosa to follow him.

"How could you?"

He turned to the mother, who held Olivia against her.

"She's just a child. How could you?" She bent down and kissed the top of Olivia's head. "It's all right. Everything's fine now."

A dark mass of self-loathing boiled inside him. He continued to stare at the mother and Olivia, wanting to explain, wanting to apologize, knowing any such attempt would be futile.

Head down, he led Rosa and Holly out the back door.

When they Disapparated at Rally Point B, the other children mobbed Holly. A beaming Jared even lifted her off the ground and hugged her. For a moment, all the cheering made O'Bannon smile.

"I need to talk to you."

Rosa stormed past him, heading toward a clump of trees.

He sighed and followed her.

They went behind the trees, Rosa waving her wand to cast a Muffling Charm so no one else could hear them.

"What the hell was that about!" she yelled.

"What?"

"You threatened to use an Unforgivable Curse back there! How could you?"

"I didn't know what else to do. Holly was gonna die and that healer wouldn't help her."

"You threatened his daughter!" Rosa practically shrieked. "That girl couldn't have been older than Holly! You held your wand to her head and threatened to Crucio her! A little girl, Jimmy!"

"Do you really think I woulda done that?"

Rosa continued to glare at him as he continued. "My God, Rosa. You've known me for almost nine years. Do you really think I'd cast a Cruciatus Curse on a little girl? On anyone? It was a bluff."

"You looked pretty damn serious to me."

"I had to. You think he would have thought I was serious if I said, 'pretty please help us or I'll cast a not-so-nice curse on your daughter?' I knew this guy wouldn't let his daughter get Crucioed. You think I wanted to do that? Pretend to threaten that healer, or point my wand at his daughter? Holly was dying, and I had to do something fast. If I could have gotten him to cooperate some other way, I would have done it. But there is no way I would have used a Cruciatus Curse on that healer or his daughter. No way! Like I said, I was bluffing."

"What if he didn't agree to help Holly? What then?"

"But he did."

"What if he didn't? What if you counted to five and he still didn't cooperate?"

O'Bannon looked down to the ground, unable to answer.

Rosa stepped closer to him. "Aunt Liana told me one time, when you make a threat, you better be prepared to carry it out."

She brushed past him and stalked off toward the others.

He continued staring at the ground, drawing slow breaths. Rosa's words echoed through his mind. What if Bronski hadn't cooperated? Well, he wouldn't have cast the Cruciatus Curse on Olivia. No way, no how.

_Then Holly probably would have died._

But that didn't happen. Bronski gave in. Holly was alive. With any luck, he wouldn't be in that kind of situation again.

_And what if I am?_

He thought about Holly, how scared he felt as she was dying in his arms. He pictured the other children. Kyon, Deanna, Jillian, Brendan, Willie, all of them. What if they were in a similar situation as Holly? How far would he go to save them? Would he have to threaten another innocent with the Cruciatus to force them to help? Would he actually have to cast an Unforgivable?

If he did, how would that make him any different from a Death Eater?

_**TO BE CONTINUED**_


	12. No Home For The Holidays

**CHAPTER 12: NO HOME FOR THE HOLIDAYS**

* * *

Thanksgiving, a big holiday for both Wizarding _and _Muggle America, was just like any other day for O'Bannon and the rest. Lots of Apparating, lots of hiking, and lots of keeping a sharp eye out for Death Eaters, giants and anything else that could threaten them. Since they had a good amount of food left from Mireet's last visit, O'Bannon decided to give everyone a little extra for dinner, to make it feel a bit like Thanksgiving. But fruit cocktail, crackers and canned ravioli could never take the place of turkey, stuffing and sweet potatoes. The entire time he ate, memories of past Thanksgivings spooled through his mind. Going to his grandparents' house, gorging himself, catching up with his relatives, and coming up with creative answers when they asked what he was doing at "that boarding school up north." _If they only knew the truth. _As it was, only Mom and Dad knew the truth about his magical abilities.

O'Bannon closed his eyes, wondering how his parents fared up in Canada. Did they celebrate Thanksgiving today? Were they thinking about him right now? Did they wish they had a "normal" son instead of one that was a wizard?

_I miss you guys. _He stared at the horizon, sending his parents a silent prayer. _Be safe._

His gaze shifted to Rosa, Jared and Artimus. His relations with Rosa had been frosty ever since the incident with Healer Bronski and his family. They still talked to one another, though in a more straight-forward manner than he was used to. Jared's mood swings had become more pronounced. In the course of a single day he could go from joking to melancholy to pissed off. Every time Mireet came with news of more war deaths, Jared inevitably made comments along the lines of, "Isn't anyone killing these bastards?" or, "Get me out there and there'll be a lot less Death Eaters." Artimus, as he usually did when tension cropped up among the quartet, retreated into himself.

_At least the kids are doing okay, considering._

Or so he thought.

One night Brendan whined about how sick he was of eating fruit cocktail. That kicked off a domino effect. Maria and Willie complained how they couldn't stand canned ravioli and spaghetti any more. Jonah blurted, "Why can't Mireet get better stuff? Doesn't she know how to buy food?"

O'Bannon didn't bother containing his anger after that comment.

"Mireet is risking her life to get us food so we all don't starve to death! So are a lot of other people! So show some friggin' gratitude for everything they're doing and stop complaining!"

Brendan's and Maria's jaws quivered before they broke down and sobbed.

"Oh, Merlin's beard. Go ahead and cry!" O'Bannon flung his arms up in frustration. "It's better than hearing you whine about everything you're eating."

Once he calmed down, he knew he could have handled that better.

_There are a lot of things I could have handled better, but I didn't. Why break the streak?_

It didn't end there. Arguments broke out almost every day, sometimes over the most trivial things. Brendan yelled at Jillian because he felt she got more food than him. Crea and Maria got into a screaming match when Crea spilled soup on Maria's jacket. Gibson and Madson went off on one another when Madson accidentally bumped Gibson.

Thankfully, none of these arguments resulted in any punches.

Until one night in early December.

The quartet had been eating their dinner quietly when Kyon cried out, "Stop it! Stop it! Coach Jimmy! Someone! Help!"

The four shot to their feet, wands out, and rushed toward the direction they heard Kyon's voice. Two figures rolled around the ground, howling in anger. A bolt flew from O'Bannon's wand. The two figures slid across the ground away from one another.

"What the hell's goin' on here!" Hands on his hips, he glared down at Daedalus and Vance.

"He started it!" Vance jabbed a finger at Daedalus. "He just went nuts!"

"You deserved it after what you said to Deanna!"

"Shut it!" O'Bannon narrowed his eyes at the two boys. "Get up, both of you! Now what happened?"

Both Daedalus and Vance jabbered away.

"One at a time! You, Daedalus."

"This jerkweed," he nodded to Vance, who glared at him, "was making fun of Deanna, talking about how poor she was and asking if she used leaves to make socks and if she names the cockroaches that live in her house. And Deanna started crying."

"It's not my fault she can't take a joke," Vance snapped.

"Those weren't jokes!" Daedalus shouted. "You were serious, and you made her cry, you little slug!"

"Take that back!" Vance turned toward him. "Nobody talks to me like that -"

"SHUT UP!"

Both boys closed their mouths and turned to face O'Bannon. He looked past them and saw Deanna standing a few feet away, quietly sobbing. Kyon had an arm around her shoulder.

"You!" O'Bannon stabbed a finger at Vance. "I don't care how rich you are, I don't care how much of a bigshot your father is, that doesn't give you the right to make fun of people who have less than you! I've dealt with enough people like you at Salem and Hogwarts, and I'm not gonna put up with this crap here! Not when we all have to work together to survive."

A grin spread over Daedalus' face as he stared at a scowling Vance.

"And you!" O'Bannon turned to Daedalus. "You're the oldest. You're supposed to be a leader for these kids. And a leader doesn't resolve a disagreement by beating someone up! You're supposed to have more sense than that!"

Daedalus hung his head.

"Now shake hands and apologize."

Vance's eyes widened in astonishment. "I'm not apologizing to that troll."

"I said . . ." O'Bannon leaned right into Vance's face. "APOLOGIZE!"

The boy jumped back at least a foot, trembling. He then looked to Daedalus. The two glowered at one another, then briefly touched hands and muttered what sounded like, "Sorry."

O'Bannon nodded. "You may not like one another, but you two are still on the same team. Our side has enough problems fighting Death Eaters. We don't need to be fighting each other! Now finish your dinner and behave yourselves!"

He stalked back to the other side of the encampment where he'd been eating. He noticed Vance sitting with his back to the others. Daedalus made his way to another part of the encampment where no one else sat.

"Daedalus," Kyon called after him, her arm still around Deanna. "Daedalus, please come back."

He ignored her and sat against a tree, where he finished his dinner.

When they turned in for the night, O'Bannon stared into the cloudy, starless sky, replaying the incident between Daedalus and Vance. He shook his head, thinking about those times when he'd been on the other end of a tongue-lashing like that, either from his parents or Headmistress Esmeralda at Salem or Professor McGonagall at Hogwarts. He sure as hell didn't like it. He wondered what Daedalus and Vance thought of him now.

_They can hate me for all I care, so long as they don't fight._

He snorted. _My God. I'm turning into an actual adult._

The next day brought with it no arguments or fighting.

It also brought with it Mireet Miradeaux.

"I have an early Christmas present for you," she said after they unloaded the food she brought. She presented them with two rolled up pieces of canvass.

"Are those tents?" Artimus asked.

"_Oui. _It is much too cold for you to be sleeping outside. We have been trying to get some tents for you for a while. These actually came from your father, Artimus."

"My father?"

"He has been giving supplies to the Guild of the Light."

"Merlin's snowy white beard." Rosa slowly shook her head. "Who would have thought Mister Rand would be so generous?"

Even O'Bannon was surprised by this. _Well, just because the guy is an asshole doesn't mean he wants to live in a world ruled by You-Know-Who._

The skin above Mireet's nose crinkled. "Generous is not the word I would use to describe Ulysses Rand. I would have gotten these tents to you sooner, but he raised the price on us. This is not the first time he has done that. He is determined to make as much money as he can from this war. No offense, Artimus, but I believe your father cares more about filling his already rich pockets than defeating You-Know-Who."

"No offense taken. That sounds exactly like something my father would do."

"Well, at least we've got tents now," Rosa said. "Hopefully they won't fall apart like most of the crap Mister Rand sells."

A small grin creased O'Bannon's lips. Rand's Realm of Magical Necessities had a reputation for selling less-than-quality stuff. It made him wonder how they had stayed in business for well over two hundred years.

Still, Rosa was right. The tents would be nice, since these magical ones were much bigger on the inside than the outside.

If the acquisition of the tents raised their spirits, Mireet's news from the battlefield dashed them. Reports filtered out of Hogwarts that students were being tortured. Fear and worry coiled around O'Bannon's insides. Faces floated through his mind. Ginny Weasley. Seamus Finnigan. Ernie Macmillan. Susan Bones. Michael Corner. Luna Lovegood. Had any of them been given a Cruciatus Curse? Had their bones broken? Tongues ripped apart?

Closer to home, the Death Eaters laid waste to a wizarding village in Missouri. A fire broke out on a Muggle cruise ship off the Florida coast, killing twenty-six people. The Guild of the Light suspected Death Eaters had been behind that.

And another former teacher of theirs had been murdered. Mr. Lymstock, the Muggle Studies teacher.

"No!" Jared gaped at Mireet after she delivered the news.

"Jared." Rosa put a hand on her cousin's shoulder. "I'm so sorry. I know how much you liked Mister Lymstock."

O'Bannon lowered his head, remembering how Mr. Lymstock had helped Jared come up with his cowboy costume their last Halloween at Salem. With a bowler hat, toy flintlock and Army boots, Jared looked nothing like a cowboy from the Old West. Looking back on it, it had been hysterical.

Not that he was in the mood to laugh right now.

"Hey, Mireet." Jared stared at her, his shoulders rising and falling with angry breaths. "Next time you come here, how about telling us which Death Eaters are dead, instead of people we actually like!"

He stormed off, followed by Rosa. Artimus found something on the ground to look at.

Mireet watched the cousins leave, the corners of her mouth twitching. O'Bannon wondered if she was going to cry.

"I . . . I think I should go," she muttered.

"I'll, um, walk you past the wards."

They started through the trees when Mireet spoke. "Things are not well here, I take it."

"No. No, things are not well at all." O'Bannon pressed his back against a tree. Mireet stepped closer to him as he continued. "Jared's pissed off all the time, Artimus is back to keeping to himself, and Rosa . . ." His shoulders sagged. "There's been a rift between us the last couple of weeks. We . . . we haven't seen eye-to-eye on some decisions we've had to make."

He prayed Mireet didn't ask him to elaborate. He sensed he lost much of Rosa's respect after threatening Healer Bronski's daughter with an Unforgivable Curse. If he lost Mireet's respect, he didn't think he could bear to live with that.

Thankfully, she didn't probe him for details. "Have you tried talking to each other about all this?"

"Like we have the time for that, between traveling and foraging and everything else we need to do to take care of these kids. I don't know, sometimes I just hope this'll all fix itself."

"These sorts of problems rarely fix themselves."

O'Bannon kept his head down as he spoke to Mireet. "To be honest, there's part of me that's afraid to talk to them about this."

"Why is that?"

"The four of us have been friends since our first year at Salem. I mean, we've had problems before, but nothing like this. They're like family, and I'm just scared that if we try to hash this out . . . well, what if we can't? What if too much stuff has happened already? What if . . . what if we can't go back to the way things were between us?"

Mireet placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. Electric tingles raced up and down his body.

"It is not like you to avoid problems."

"I know. We should all just sit down and try to hammer everything out. It'd be nice if we had a little break in this life on the run to do it."

He waited for Mireet to respond. Instead she squeezed his shoulder, managing a weak smile.

O'Bannon sighed. She didn't have an answer for him. _He _didn't have an answer. Dread flooded through him. Would the four of them grow so distant that their friendship couldn't be salvaged?

He stared past Mireet, peering through the trees at the encampment. His three friends erected the tents with their wands. The children stood around them, many wearing excited looks. It spoke volumes of their predicament that the presence of a couple of tents could make them so happy.

_Wait a minute. _"Mireet. What did you say when you gave us those tents?"

"Sorry?" She stared at him, a bit perplexed.

"You said they were an early Christmas present, right?"

"_Oui. _It was just a small attempt at humor."

A smile spread over O'Bannon's face. "Actually, it's more than that. You just gave me a great idea."

**XXXXX**

Six days later, Mireet visited them again. This time she and O'Bannon were able to plan out his "great idea" in more detail. One worry they had was some of the Guild of the Light people in the supply chain may consider some of their requests extraneous.

"Let me deal with them," Mireet stated. "Or work around them if the situation calls for it."

The next day, he gathered Rosa, Jared and Artimus and explained what he and Mireet had in mind. He expected resistance from Rosa. As an auror-in-training, she'd be the most security-minded of the four.

Instead, she said, "I think it's a great idea."

"You do?" O'Bannon tried not to gasp in surprise.

"Sure. We've been in the Appalachians for, what now, four months? I don't know about anyone else, but this whole thing is fraying everybody's nerves, including us. For the sake of everyone's sanity, we need a little break."

"I doubt the Death Eaters will take any breaks looking for us," Jared noted.

"Then we make for someplace where there isn't a lot of Death Eater activity. Mireet can probably get that information from the Guild of the Light. When we get there, we strengthen our wards and security spells. We should be good for a few hours while we do this."

Two days before the "big event," Mireet showed up. Along with the usual sacks of food for them, she brought two other sacks with "special items." O'Bannon took them into the boys' tent and hid them in a trunk, which he surrounded with all sorts of security wards and charms.

The night before the "big event," they set up camp near High Point, New Jersey, which according to the Guild had seen no Death Eater activity since the battle at the Delaware Water Gap a couple of months earlier. The quartet waited until the children fell asleep before they went to work. Rosa doubled, even tripled, the wards and security spells around the encampment, then hurried back to the tents to get everything ready.

**XXXXX**

"Everybody up!" O'Bannon shouted throughout the spacious tent. "Let's go! Outta bed now!"

The boys trudged out of their small bedrooms, grumbling and rubbing their tired eyes. They shuffled through the carpeted living room, avoiding chairs and the lone sofa.

"What the . . ." Daedalus gaped at the object in the center of the room.

Jonah gasped in shock. Huge smiles nearly consumed the faces of Willie and Brendan.

The boys all stared at the Christmas tree standing in the middle of the living room. Colorful ornaments and silvery tinsel dangled from its green branches. An angel tooting on a trumpet fluttered around the top.

More decorations adorned the inside of the tent. Wreaths with small doves fluttering inside the center. Garland and mistletoe hung from the walls. Magically created snow fell from the ceiling, vanishing before it touched the floor.

"MERRY CHRISTMAS!" O'Bannon, Jared and Artimus proclaimed, their arms around each other's shoulders.

Minutes later Rosa appeared with the girls. They joined the boys in kneeling around the tree, picking up presents, one for each of them.

All the children received food. Not fruit cocktail or vegetables or ravioli. The good stuff. Norace Nickerbaker's Never-Melt Ice Cream, Chocolate Fountain in a Bottle, Mint Leaves, Polly Pelfley's Bite-Sized Pies, Chocolate Cauldrons, Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans, even some Muggle candy like Gummi Bears and M&Ms. Best of all, the children shared their goodies without anyone having to tell them so. Even Vance Hochaver offered some of his Illyan's Icy Mints to the other children.

Mireet also did not forget the quartet. Artimus' package contained a bunch of Twix bars, his favorite Muggle candy. Rosa got a tin of Peanut Butter Stick'um Cakes, which if you didn't eat fast enough would leave you unable to open your mouth for several minutes. O'Bannon received a super-sized version of Neely's Nut-Nuttier-Nuttiest Chocolate Bar, which was packed to the hilt with every nut imaginable.

"Oh yes," Jared spoke with reverence when he opened his present. "Yes, yes, yes . . . Yes!"

Several of the children turned toward him.

"What is it?" Rosa asked.

He looked toward O'Bannon, beaming. "Jimmy, if you don't marry Mireet, then I will."

"What the heck are you talkin' about?"

"This, man!" Jared raised a huge red and white box over his head. "Dunkin' Donuts! The greatest Muggle food ever made!"

Rosa doubled over and laughed. O'Bannon and Artimus added their own laughs moments later.

The day passed with them eating, singing Christmas carols – both Wizarding and Muggle ones – and playing games like hangman, charades and Exploding Snap – thankfully, the cards for that game had come with the tent. O'Bannon also regaled them with his rendition of _Twas the Night Before Christmas, _though in his version, the evil "Boss Steinbrenner" chased after Santa's sleigh in his magical flying limousine, until Rudolph fired a laser from his red nose and knocked it out of the sky.

Even on Christmas, he couldn't help get in a dig at the hated New York Yankees and their owner.

"Not a bad day, is it?" O'Bannon plopped down on the sofa next to Artimus. "All things considered."

Art smiled and took a bite of his Twix bar. "Yeah. I never imagined we could have Christmas on the run from Death Eaters, but you pulled it off, Jimmy."

"_We_ pulled it off. Team effort, don't forget."

"Yeah." Artimus stared at the children, some playing games, others singing the Wizarding carol _Christmas Has A Magic All Its Own._ He drew a breath and turned to O'Bannon. "This is going to sound crazy, but this is actually better than the Christmases I spent with my family."

"Dude, serious?"

"Uh-huh. I guess everyone figures because my family lives in a mansion, we must have the most spectacular Christmases ever."

Actually, O'Bannon had assumed that. Then it dawned on him that in all the years he'd known Artimus, he had never talked about Christmas in the Rand household.

"We don't do a lot of decorating. My father thinks it's just a bunch of clutter. We have a tree in our parlor, but the servant elves put it up and decorate it. Dad hardly even looks at it. As for gifts, we exchange those at the dinner table, mainly because my father spends the morning and afternoon looking over his finances. And the gifts . . ." A scowl briefly crossed Artimus' face. "The amount of gifts we get is dependent on how successful we've been throughout the year, either in school or in work. Guess who always wound up with the fewest gifts?"

Anger lines etched in O'Bannon's face. Trust someone like Ulysses Rand to use Christmas as a competition among his sons.

"But, you know, Hector . . ." Artimus bit his lip. He took a breath before continuing. "Before we went to bed Christmas night, Hector would come by my room with extra presents for me. Then we'd just talk. He'd give me some tips on doing better in school or trying to make friends or standing up for myself. That was the _only _good thing about Christmas."

Artimus' jaw trembled. He laid his Twix bar on his lap and intertwined his fingers. "I miss him, Jimmy."

O'Bannon slapped him on the shoulder. "I know, man. I know."

**XXXXX**

"You're _still_ eating that donut?" Rosa looked incredulously at Jared, who held a half-eaten chocolate donut coated with white frosting and rainbow sprinkles.

He turned to her, smiling in pure ecstasy. "I'm savoring it. Who knows how long it'll be before I get more Dunkin' Donuts?"

Rosa chuckled softly as Jared continued. "The kids seemed to like 'em. Though it broke my heart to see Madson take that Bavarian Crème. I love Bavarian Crème."

She perched herself on the arm of the overstuffed chair Jared sat in. Before she could say anything to him, Daedalus walked up to her.

"Um, Rosa?"

"Yeah, Daedalus."

"Um, I just wanted to see if, um, well, you wanted some of my Mint Leaves." He held the green and white tin up to her.

"I'd love some." She reached in and took some. "Thank you, that's really sweet of you."

Daedalus stiffened. His cheeks turned a flaming shade of red.

"Um . . . you're welcome. It's, uh, nothing. I hope you like 'em. Um, Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas to you too, Daedalus." Rosa smiled at him.

He blushed even more as he backed away, a lop-sided grin on his face. Seconds later he turned around and headed back to the Christmas tree. She also noticed Kyon kneeling on the floor, glancing between her and Daedalus, a distinct pout on the girl's face.

"Jeez, he didn't offer me any Mint Leaves," Jared grumbled in mock annoyance.

Rosa leaned closer to him and whispered, "That's because Daedalus doesn't have a crush on you."

"What? Get outta town."

"I'm telling you, it's true."

"And how would you know?"

"You saw the way he blushed when he offered me those Mint Leaves. And that's not the first time he's stuttered around me. I've also caught him glancing my way more than once. Of course, I don't think Kyon is too thrilled by it."

"Why not?" Jared asked.

Rosa rolled her eyes, wondering how her cousin could be so dense. "Because Kyon likes Daedalus."

"What? Oh, come on. Kyon's like eleven. Does she even know about boys . . . I mean, in that way?"

"Um, hello? You remember Clark Zezenski?"

Jared's stared at the ceiling in thought for a few moments. "Oh yeah. He used to play Chaser for Jingosocke Hall."

"Yes, and remember how I had a huge crush on him in our First Year?"

"You had huge crushes on a lot of guys at Salem. You expect me to keep track?"

She whacked him on the arm and started laughing. So did Jared. A lump suddenly formed in her throat. She studied his face, noting the big smile, the way his shoulders shook as he laughed.

This was her Jared. The Jared she had grown up with. The Jared she traded barbs with. The Jared she had been without for nearly four months.

She fought down the tears she felt welling up. Only now did it hit her how much she missed the old Jared. So much of her focus had been on keeping the children safe. Still, how could she not notice when days or weeks went by without Jared making a single smart-ass comment at her expense?

She laid a hand on his shoulder. When he looked up at her, he stopped laughing. A more serious expression settled on his face.

"We're gonna win, Jared. We're gonna beat You-Know-Who and all the Death Eaters."

"Yeah. Yeah, I know. It's just . . . all these people getting killed, people we know. I just feel like I should be out there fighting these bastards, doing something useful."

"I think we are doing something useful," Rosa replied. "We're keeping these kids alive."

"Yeah, I know. I guess after everything we've been through over the last two years, I always thought we'd be on the front line, fighting alongside our family. Merlin, I miss 'em. Especially today."

"So do I. But at least I have one family member to spend Christmas with."

The corners of Jared's mouth twisted. "Why do I feel a hug coming on?"

Rosa smiled, leaned over and hugged him.

"I really am glad you're here, cuz," he whispered to her.

"So am I." She started to pull away, then veered left and took a bite out of Jared's donut.

"Hey! Get your own donut, you thief."

Rosa chuckled as she chewed slowly. Jared was right. This needed to be savored.

"I'm not interrupting a family moment here, am I?"

The cousins turned to find Jimmy approaching them.

"Not at all," said Jared. "Actually, I think I'm gonna go keep Artimus company. Later."

Jared got up, clutching his donut protectively to his chest as he headed off. Jimmy eyed him curiously before turning to Rosa. "Do I wanna know?"

"He's just paranoid I'm gonna take another bite out of his precious donut again."

Jimmy softly laughed. "So, um, enjoying yourself?"

"Yeah. It may not be the kind of Christmas I'm used to, but I think we did pretty well for ourselves."

"Good. Good." Jimmy nodded, then stared down at the carpet. Rosa followed his gaze, taking slow breaths, wondering if she should say something or let him go first.

She started to open her mouth when Jimmy spoke. "Um, Rosa?"

"Yeah?"

"We're good, right? I mean, we're still friends?"

"What kind of question is that?"

"Well, it's just . . . after what happened in Filfylum, well, I wouldn't blame you if you hated me. Hell, there are times I hate myself for doing that."

Rosa stood up and gripped his wrist. "Jimmy, I know you were in an impossible situation. I don't think I can ever condone holding a little girl at wandpoint and threatening her with a Cruciatus Curse, even if you never intended to use it."

"Actually, I'm glad to hear you say that." He shook his head. "I fight bullies. How many times when we were at Salem did we send bullies packing when we saw them picking on little kids? And that night in Filfylum, I became a bully. But when I look at Holly and remember how close she came to dying, I try to believe what I did was justified. But then I think of how scared that family was and . . . I just don't know if what I did was right or wrong."

"I can't answer that for you, Jimmy. I know I was scared that Holly might die, and I was wracking my brain trying to come up with another way to get Bronski to cooperate and . . . and I couldn't."

She scowled. "Aurors are supposed to think on their feet. We're supposed to make life-or-death decisions in the blink of an eye. But I didn't do that. _Twice _I didn't do that. First with Arcturus, then with the Bronskis."

Rosa exhaled a frustrated breath. "I never thought it would be like this. I thought all we'd have to do was fight Death Eaters. I never thought we'd have to choose between one innocent life and eighteen, or threaten one little girl to save another. Merlin, I hate what this war is making us do."

Jimmy put an arm around her shoulder. "I guess there's only one thing we can do."

"What's that?"

"Learn from the past. Try to do things differently if those kinds of situations crop up again, and most importantly, not let this war tear us apart."

Those words should have encouraged her. Instead fear sprouted within her. Fear they would have to make morally questionable choices again. Fear the special bond she had with Jimmy, Jared and Artimus may not survive this war.

_**TO BE CONTINUED**_


	13. The Truth Monitors

**CHAPTER 13: THE TRUTH MONITORS**

* * *

The Christmas party improved everyone's mood. The children didn't argue or fight with one another, and rarely complained about food or the cold weather or waiting to use the bathroom in their tents. The tension among the quartet also faded. Wisecracks flew out of Jared's mouth, Artimus became more talkative, and O'Bannon and Rosa resolved their differences.

Other than the fact they had to hide in the mountains from Death Eaters, life was pretty damn good.

January passed uneventfully. Mireet updated them on which areas of the Appalachians had little or no Death Eater activity. At times O'Bannon had been tempted to stay in one spot for a day or two to give them a nice rest. But whenever he thought that, Ol' Mad-Eye Moody's favorite phrase blared in his head. _"Constant Vigilance!"_

__ Many sports teams lost games because they'd become complacent. Out here, there was more at stake than a game.

So they kept moving.

His battle against complacency paid off one afternoon in early February. They'd been hiking through the snowy mountains near Pawlet, Vermont when they spotted three giants. The quartet and the children dropped to their stomachs. He and Rosa cast Camouflage Charms. The giants didn't spot them and continued on their way.

In a warped way, O'Bannon was grateful for the incident. It served to remind everyone of the dangers they still faced.

And if an encounter with giants couldn't do that, Mireet's news from the outside world did.

Death Eaters had broken into the Talakhanautuk Center for Magical Studies in North Dakota and killed fifteen Muggle-born students and teachers, along with ten others deemed "blood traitors." A member of the Continental Wizarding Legislature had been found levitating over a village in Oklahoma, disemboweled, his entrails dangling from his stomach. A "mysterious fire" broke out on a subway car in New York City, killing ten Muggles. A rumor circulated that Lord Voldemort himself had been spotted outside Washington.

"The Guild has not been able to confirm that," Mireet told them. "But if he was in The States, it was only for a short while, probably to make sure the Death Eaters here are carrying out his orders properly."

O'Bannon hoped that was true. The mere thought of that monster on U.S. soil gave him sub zero chills up and down his spine.

The Guild of the Light had staged a few hit-and-run raids. For the most part, however, they kept a very low profile. It made O'Bannon wonder if some major operation was in the works. He prayed that was the case. Maybe they could defeat the Death Eaters in America, then help his friends in England.

When February 14th rolled around, the group set up camp near Hagerstown, Maryland. O'Bannon hadn't given much thought to the significance of this day until Daedalus came up to Rosa to get his cans of soup and fruit cocktail.

"Um . . . uh, Happy Valentine's Day, Rosa."

"Thank you, Daedalus." She smiled at him. "Happy Valentine's Day to you, too."

The boy blushed, a wide smile forming on his face as he strolled off.

Kyon, for whatever reason, watched Daedalus as he walked away and frowned.

"So when's the wedding?" Jared asked Rosa as the quartet sat together and ate.

"Oh for Merlin's sake, shut up. It's a harmless little crush, just like the one the three of you had on Miss Venatici." She referred to their History of Magic teacher at Salem.

"But crushes can lead to _other things_." Jared gave her a knowing grin. "Take our good pal Jimmy, here."

"Please leave me outta this."

"But you're a perfect example. You had a big-time crush on Tonks when she was at Salem helping us with the Projection Potion thing. Then a few months later when we were at Hogwarts, and you two were all alone in the Room of Requirement . . . well hell, you know what happened." Jared waggled his eyebrows at O'Bannon.

Rosa scooped up a handful of snow and dirt and chucked it at her cousin. It struck him on the side of the head. "You're a degenerate. Daedalus is only twelve years old."

"Then do what Tonks did with Jimmy. Wait until he's of age before you deflower him. Of course, that means you'll have to wait five years before you can make your move. But if he's that special to you, I'm sure you can -"

Jared never finished the sentence. Rosa slammed down her can of potatoes, leapt at her cousin and slapped him about the head and shoulders. Both O'Bannon and Artimus laughed.

While Jared pleaded for help, which never came, O'Bannon stared into his can of vegetable soup, slowly stirring it with his spoon. He smiled, thinking about that night in the Room of Requirement with Tonks. Heat surged through him as he recalled the sensation of her naked body against his, their fierce kissing and caressing.

What made it even more special was Tonks herself. How many guys did it for the first time with someone they really cared about? Not only was Tonks hot, she had a devil-may-care attitude and toughness on par with Rosa. Plus she had given him so much good advice on fighting and life in general.

_I wish you were here, Tonks._ He could have used her advice many times over the past six months, especially that night with Healer Bronski.

But Tonks wasn't here. She was back in England, married to Remus Lupin, and according to Mireet, pregnant!

A flicker of jealousy sprouted within him. He grunted and fought it down. They both knew they could never have anything long term. Their brief romance had been awesome, but it belonged in the past. Besides, Mister Lupin was a good guy, even if he was way older than Tonks. He wished her nothing but happiness with Mister Lupin and their child, and hoped all three of them would be okay.

"Hey! Thanks for your help." Jared looked to him and Artimus. "Some friends you are."

O'Bannon shrugged. "What? It looked like you were doing fine on your own."

Jared flipped him off.

That's when they heard a _crack _from the woods.

The four sprang to their feet, wands raised. It couldn't be Mireet, not this soon. Her last visit had been two days ago.

O'Bannon took point with Artimus, their wands lighting the woods. Rosa and Jared guarded their flanks.

The glowing white light from their wands fell on a familiar tall, blond woman.

"Mireet?"

"Yes. It's me, Jimmy."

"You're here earlier than usual."

"I have something for you."

"Uh-huh. How old were you when you got rid of that stuffed unicorn you said was your good luck charm?"

"I did not get rid of it. I still have it. But what I want to know is how many times the Boston Bruins _lost _the Stanley Cup to the Montreal Canadiens?"

He growled before answering. "Seven times, and you really know where to hit a guy where it hurts."

Mireet responded with an elfish grin that made her look so damn sexy. "I am certain you will get over it."

She approached the quartet, with a sack of food in her right hand, and a small box-shaped object under her left arm.

"What's that?" Artimus nodded to it.

"I got you a Wizarding Wireless." She held the small wooden box in front of her.

"Thanks." Jared didn't sound very enthused. "But don't the Death Eaters control the airwaves now? I don't know about you guys, but I don't feel like listening to any of their bullcrap."

"There is one program I think you will enjoy very much," Mireet answered. "Tune in two days from now between six and eight o'clock. I've charmed the radio so you can receive the program."

"So what is it?" O'Bannon asked.

Mireet gave him another elfish grin. "I do not wish to spoil the surprise."

She Apparated a few minutes later. Out of curiosity, they turned on the magical radio. Some of the stations emitted only a dull hum. Others presented music or shows none of them had a desire to listen to. One station had a morose-sounding choir singing the praises of, _"Our most powerful and revered Dark Lord, he who removes the stain of impurity from our world."_ Another station featured a screeching woman who declared, "Muggle-borns! Eaters of filth! How dare you call yourselves true wizards! You will all burn at the hands of our most perfect and mighty Dark Lord!"

"Well she sounds cheerful." O'Bannon glared at the radio.

Jared scoffed. "So many channels and nothing to listen to. Not even a Quidditch game."

O'Bannon frowned and nodded. The uprising had cancelled the seasons of the U.S. Quidditch Association and their minor league affiliates.

Two days later, the group set up camp in Shenandoah National Park in Virginia. Everyone crowded around the radio, eating and waiting for this program to come on.

Six o'clock. The radio remained silent.

Six-thirty. Still silent.

Seven o'clock. Silent.

"Next time I see Mireet," Jared commented. "I'm gonna tell her I don't find 'The Hour of Silence' very interesting."

Rosa turned to him. "She did say between six and eight, so have some patience. Oh wait, I forgot. You don't have any patience."

Jared made a face at her. Many of the children laughed. Even O'Bannon chuckled. It was good to see the cousins ripping on one another again.

At seven-fifteen, an energetic voice burst from the radio.

"Good evening lovers of freedom and haters of all things dark. It's that time again. Time for your weekly dose of what's really happening. It's time for _The Truth Monitors."_

"Merlin's beard!" Rosa gaped.

"No way!" Jared blurted.

"Is that . . ." Artimus blinked in surprise. "That's Frankie Freehold!"

O'Bannon's eyes widened. He couldn't believe he was hearing the announcer for the USQA's Boston Bandits.

"Yes, folks it's the show that combats lies with the truth, and fear with hope. And there is hope out there. Two days ago along the Rio Grande, our side, ahem, 'interrupted' a meeting between high-ranking Death Eaters from the United States and Mexico. Four of the slithery slimebags are currently taking the nap you never wake up from, including the chief interrogator for the entire Southwest Region. As for our side, just two injuries, both non-life threatening."

Cheers went up from the group, with Jared high-fiving everyone within reach.

Frankie Freehold delivered more news. Some good, like a wizarding village in the Louisiana Bayou that rose up against their Death Eater overseers. Some bad, like the murder of Allison Eddy, a Muggle-born Keeper for the Houston Hexmasters.

"That's the real news across Wizarding America. Now it's time for our regular line-up of contributors, starting with the man who signs his name to all our paychecks at _The Truth Monitors. _None other than the owner of the Boston Bandits, and a friend of freedom, Lawrence Rollingsworth."

O'Bannon did a double-take. Lawrence Rollingsworth, the father of his ex-girlfriend, Rana. Thoughts of the pretty, brown-haired Seeker floated through his mind as he listened to the radio.

"Once again, friends, I come to deliver a message of hope. I know at times it feels like all hope is gone from the world. The Department of Magic is in ruin, some of you are hiding from Death Eaters who wish to kill you for simply being Muggle-born or for not going along with this pureblood supremacy garbage. You've lost family, friends. Some may even think You-Know-Who and his murdering scum have won.

"But they haven't! They won't! So long as just one of us remains who believes in freedom, _evil cannot win._ There are people out there as we speak, fighting this madman. Harry Potter, who has been dubbed The Chosen One, destined to defeat You-Know-Who again, still remains at-large in England. Ask yourselves, just how powerful can You-Know-Who be if he can't catch one seventeen-year-old wizard?"

"Go, Harry," Rosa cheered.

O'Bannon smiled and nodded. _Give those bastards hell, Harry._

"And _you_ can resist, too," Lawrence Rollingsworth continued. "Even if you can't fight, there are ways to resist. Death Eaters constantly barge into peoples' homes and take whatever they want. Clothes, food, healing potions. Well, _let them have them. _Or rather, let them have things of poor quality. Hide your good clothes and food and potions. Replace them with worn clothing that will soon fall apart, or food that's about to spoil. Hide the good potions and replace them with diluted ones. A bottle of Skele-Gro not properly made may keep a Death Eater on the mend for two days instead of one. That's one more Death Eater out of action.

"Things may look bad, friends, but now's not the time to give up. Now's the time to _fight harder. _Because the alternative to not fighting You-Know-Who is too terrible to imagine.

"Now, onto our next segment, 'A Word of Warning,' with a woman I have been very well acquainted with for twenty-three years. My lovely wife, Corona."

Seconds later an airy voice came from the radio. "Thank you, dear. As always, there is a lengthy list of warnings to bring you. First, one of the oldest magical families on the continent has gone over to the other side. The Mather family, Mordecai, his wife Tivia, their oldest son, Morton, and their youngest son, Merak, all bear the Dark Mark."

"What!" Artimus' eyes bulged. "Is she kidding? Merak Mather, a Death Eater?"

"And this surprises you because . . ." Jared responded.

"Well, I admit, he's a jerk. His entire family are jerks."

"They also don't like Muggle-borns," O'Bannon pointed out. "Hearing that scumsucking piece of crap has a black snake tattooed on his arm doesn't surprise me at all."

Artimus shook his head. "But his father fought _against _You-Know-Who in the last war. Of course Mister Mather was pretty bitter over it. He did lose a hand at the Battle of Smithjohnny Bridge."

"And remember what Merak said to us before graduation?" said O'Bannon. "How he actually blamed Muggle-borns for causing this war and the last one?"

"Blame the victims." Jared snorted. "If that doesn't prove what an idiot Merak is . . . oh hell, let him and his damn family kiss You-Know-Who's slimy ass. Maybe the Guild of the Light will wipe 'em all out. Do the world a favor."

"Quiet down, guys," Rosa ordered. "I wanna hear what else they have to say."

Corona Rollingsworth wrapped up her segment with advice on how to counter Perception Altering Charms.

"And now I'd like to bring in someone who's turning into a regular here on _The Truth Monitors. _Minor league Quidditch fans know her as the Seeker for the Portland Sea Nymphs. But I know her as my pride and joy, my wonderful daughter, Rana."

O'Bannon's heart fluttered. An image formed in his mind, his first kiss with Rana at their Seventh Year Halloween dance, so vivid he could still feel her soft lips on his.

He tried not to think about how the damn Projection Potion wrecked their relationship before it could truly begin.

"Hi, everyone."

His body tingled at the sound of her cheery voice.

"First off, I want to thank my parents for letting me speak on their show, and let everyone know about my experiences with Muggle-borns. The thing is, all this stuff never really mattered to me. So what if you come from a wizarding family or a Muggle family? A wizard's a wizard and a witch is a witch. We _all_ do magic, some of us better than others. In fact, a Muggle-born was the Valedictorian of my class at Salem, Cindy Walker."

Rana paused. O'Bannon lowered his head, thinking back to _The All-Seeing Eye_ article about Cindy's death.

"Cindy was murdered by Death Eaters. And why? Because she didn't have the right blood. Because she came from a Muggle family. Well so what? Cindy was a nice girl. She sometimes helped me in our Defense Against the Dark Arts and Herbology classes. She didn't steal magic from anyone. She was just, somehow, born with it, and she worked hard to be at the top of our class. She would have made the Wizarding World a better place, if she hadn't been murdered."

Another pause by Rana. "And that brings me to another Muggle-born I knew very well at Salem. Jimmy O'Bannon."

His head snapped up at the sound of his name. He noticed Rosa, Jared and Artimus lean closer to the radio as their former classmate continued.

"Jimmy loved telling purebloods like me about Muggle things, and I, for one, loved hearing how Muggles could fly and talk to people around the world and cook food and heal sick people without magic_. _He showed me Muggles have incredible talents, some of which even _surpass_ what we have in our world. That's right, folks. There are some things Muggles can do that wizards can't. And if there was one thing Jimmy loved talking about, it was Muggle sports. Especially hockey, which we had at Salem thanks to two Muggle-borns who went there in the 1950s. I had a blast watching hockey games. They were exciting. Because of Jimmy's love of hockey, and his willingness to share it with others in the Wizarding World, he's in hiding from the Death Eaters. Him and other friends of mine, Jared Diaz, Artimus Rand and Rosa Infante. They're protecting a bunch of kids who are on the run because they dared learn about a Muggle game. Wow. Skating around the ice with a stick and shooting a puck into a net. Can someone tell me how that threatens the purity of our world? Actually, if you can tell me that, you're a nutjob."

The quartet and many of the children laughed.

"Well all you You-Know-Who worshipping _jagoffs . . ."_

O'Bannon grinned when Rana used one of his favorite insults.

"Good luck finding Jimmy, Jared, Rosa and Artimus. They were all great students at Salem. Rosa's a multiple-time Dueling Club champion and she was training to be an auror. Jimmy's one of the toughest guys I ever met. Same with Jared. And Artimus is a pretty smart guy. If you Death Eaters do find 'em, get ready for a fight you won't win.

"Take care, you guys. All of you."

Minutes later Frankie Freehold closed the show by wishing everyone luck and that the end of this day would bring them one day closer to victory.

"Man, that was awesome!" Jared beamed at everyone. "They stuck it to You-Know-Who and all his scumbags!"

"Rana called me smart." An amazed expression came over Artimus' face. "I never knew she thought I was smart."

"Too bad she never saw you fight Death Eaters and aurors and Chupacabra," O'Bannon said to him. "Imagine all the compliments she'd give you then."

Artimus grinned.

"What about all that stuff she was saying about you, man?" Jared nodded at O'Bannon. "I think Rana's still a bit smitten with you." He gasped and held up a finger. "That's it!"

"That's what?" O'Bannon's brow furrowed.

"That's why the Death Eaters really hate Muggle-borns like you. You come into our world with these smooth Muggle moves you learn from the movies to steal all our hot pureblood witches. Admit it!"

O'Bannon shrugged. "What can I say? Once you go Muggle-born, you don't go back."

Jared and Rosa fell on their backs laughing. Even Artimus convulsed with laughter.

"What do you mean by that, Coach Jimmy?" asked seven-year-old Willie Zobrist.

He turned to him, swallowing. _Oh crap. I shoulda watched what I said._

"Uh, well . . . uh . . ." This was not a conversation he wanted to have with a kid who wasn't even his. He looked to his three best friends for help.

They all just laughed harder.

The next day they traveled near the Pennsylvania/West Virginia border. As they sat around the campfire for dinner, Rosa said, "You know, maybe it was hearing Rana on the radio, but last night I kept dreaming about being back at Salem."

"You weren't the only one," O'Bannon piped up. "I've been thinking about our school days a lot since last night."

Jared and Artimus nodded, admitting the same thing.

A grin appeared on Art's face. "You remember Seventh Year, in History of Magic, when Jimmy charmed that bust of Kensington Kadermass to insult Merak Mather when he walked in the room?"

The quartet chuckled, with Rosa throwing in one of the charmed phrases. "'Merak Mather's first kiss was with his stuffed unicorn when he was thirteen.'"

They laughed louder. Some of the children even joined in.

"Or who could forget that night Fourth Year," said Jared, "when we were in the Blazenrowe Hall parlor, and my dear cousin came down in her bathrobe and . . . bunny slippers!"

O'Bannon howled. Artimus convulsed, trying to hold in his laughter.

Rosa, however, scowled at Jared. "Why do you always find that so funny?"

"Because here's Miss I-Wanna-Be-An-Ass-Kicking-Auror wearing fluffy pink bunny slippers. I mean, why would you do something so girly?"

"Maybe it's because _I am a girl, _you dumbass!"

Jared only laughed harder. "Oh but the best was when Jimmy started singing that song. _'Here comes Rosa Cottontail, hoppin' down the bunny trail . . ."_

O'Bannon joined in. "_'Hippity-hoppity, Easter's on its way!'"_

The two roared with laughter.

Rosa frowned. "Yeah, that's real funny, guys. How about showing a little sensitivity? I miss my bunny slippers. Those things were so comfortable."

"'Course Jimmy's got some other school memories," Jared spoke through his laughter. "Like the ones at Hogwarts. You do any reminiscing about that year?"

"How could I not after they mentioned Harry. I can only imagine what a pain in the ass he's being for You-Know-Who. Then again, he has a knack for making trouble."

"What'd you mean?" asked Kyon.

"Well, you guys just know Harry as a great hero of the Wizarding World. But I got to know him as a real guy. And let me tell you, Harry had a reserved seat in detention."

"Nuh-uh," chorused six kids.

"Yuh-huh."

"But he's a hero," said Jillian. "Aren't heroes supposed to be nice?"

"Well, Harry is nice. It's just that sometimes he did things that got him in trouble. The Brits are a little stricter at Hogwarts."

"Did Harry Potter have a lot of friends at Hogwarts?" asked Holly.

"Sure he did. Well, he had friends, then he had a few others who did nothing but hero-worship him."

He stifled a chuckle.

"What's so funny?" Rosa asked.

"Sorry. That whole hero-worshipping thing made me think of Dobby."

"Who's Dobby?" asked Artimus.

"He was this house elf who worked in the kitchen at Hogwarts. I never told you about Dobby, did I?"

His three friends shook their heads.

"Okay." The children scooted closer as O'Bannon began. "Well, it was a couple weeks before Christmas, and Fred, George, Lee and me snuck down to the kitchen. That's where they introduce me to Dobby, who asks if I'm a friend of 'the great and wonderful Harry Potter?' So I tell him, 'Yeah.' Next thing you know, he gets all excited and starts bowing and asking us what we want. So I ask for some roly-polies 'cause, man, I love me some roly-polies. So we're shootin' the breeze, waitin' on our food, and when it comes, I thank Dobby. The little guy goes out of his mind, going, 'Dobby has been thanked for his work. Sir is indeed a most kind and benevolent wizard!'"

Laughter erupted around him.

"I'm looking at him like, 'Uh, yeah. No problem, man.' So I take a bite out of my roly-poly, which, of course, is good – blueberry. And then, just as an afterthought, I said, 'Hey, Dobby, I forgot to ask. Is one of these wild berry, 'cause that's my favorite.' Next thing you know, he starts shaking and whining, 'Dobby is so sorry, Sir. Please don't hate Dobby. Dobby did not make a roly-poly with wild berry. Dobby is a bad house elf. Bad and stupid and worthless!' And then he starts banging his head against the floor! Now I'm freakin' out and I'm telling him to stop, but he just keeps doin' it. Wham, wham, wham! So I get down on my knees and I put my hand down between the floor and his head and . . . wham!"

The laughter around him grew louder.

"Little dude broke my hand. Now Dobby starts crying so loud, I swear, people in London could hear him. So I just tell him, 'Dobby, it's no big deal. I can live without a wild berry roly-poly. The rest of 'em are fine. Look.' So I shove one of 'em in my mouth and tell him it's delicious. All the sudden, Dobby stops crying and looks up at me with those big house elf eyes and says, "Sir has paid Dobby a compliment. Dobby has injured Sir and forgot to make Sir's favorite roly-poly, yet he compliments Dobby. Dobby does not deserve Sir's kindness.' Then he snapped his fingers, fixed my knuckles and hugged my leg. And he's crying his eyes out so much my pants are getting damp. So I try to shake him off, but he's wrapped around me tighter than a Devil's Snare. So I look over to the twins and Lee and I'm like, 'Guys, a little help?' And Fred goes, 'Oh no. I don't want to spoil such an intimate moment.' Then Lee goes, 'There's a broom closet just down the hall if you two want some privacy.'"

Everyone was rolling with laughter, O'Bannon included.

"Why couldn't we have an elf like that at Salem?" Jared clutched his stomach as he laughed. "He's a riot, man."

_Crack!_

The laughter stopped. Everyone turned to the woods where the tell-tale sound of someone Disapparating came from.

"Mireet?" Rosa got to her feet, wand out.

"I guess." O'Bannon started for the trees.

Indeed it was Mireet. After the security questions, he led her to the encampment.

"So what brings you . . . here?" His mouth hung open, concern etching into his face.

Mireet's eyes were red and watery. A sullen look marred her beautiful features.

"Mireet, what is it?"

She shook her head and kept walking. His stomach turned into a cold ball of ice as he followed her. He knew something was very wrong.

His friends also noticed something was wrong the moment Mireet approached them.

"Mireet. Are you okay?" Rosa stepped toward her. "What's wrong?"

She sniffled. O'Bannon placed a comforting hand on her back. "Mireet?"

She drew a ragged breath. "The . . . the Guild of the Light attacked Helghorst Island tonight."

"Helghorst Island?" Artimus looked puzzled. "Where's that?"

"Lake Michigan. It is the headquarters for the Death Eaters in America."

"Cool!" Jared blurted. "Did we blow it to smithereens?"

"No." Mireet's voice cracked. Tears streamed down her face. "We lost, and . . . and . . ."

Her body shook with a sob. O'Bannon put his arm around her shoulders.

Mireet looked up. "Jared, I am so sorry. Your mother . . . she's dead."

_**TO BE CONTINUED**_


	14. A Thirst For Vengeance

**CHAPTER 14: A THIRST FOR VENGEANCE**

* * *

No one moved. No one breathed. The air became still.

Numbness gripped O'Bannon. He couldn't accept Mireet's words. Jared's mom? Dead?

Someone emitted a high-pitched gasp. He forced his head to move to the right.

Rosa brought a hand up to her mouth. The glow from the campfire reflected off the moisture in her eyes.

Jared's mouth slowly fell open. His hands trembled. "What? She can't . . ." He spoke in a whisper. "My mom can't . . ."

"I'm so sorry." Mireet's voice quivered.

"It's a mistake. It has to be."

"It's not, Jared. She was killed during the -"

"YOU'RE LYING!" He jumped at her. "My mom can't be dead! She's one of the best aurors in the country! She's not dead! SHE'S NOT DEAD!"

Mireet opened her mouth to respond. Instead a sob burst from her throat. She turned to O'Bannon, who wrapped his arms around her.

"Jared?" Rosa stepped toward him, tears running down her cheeks. She reached out her hand. "Jared?"

"NO!" He spun away from her. "SHE'S NOT DEAD! She's not . . . she's not . . ."

Jared sank to his knees. He bent over, pressing his hands into the dirt.

"NOOOOO!"

He sobbed uncontrollably. Rosa dropped to his side, weeping, her arms around him.

Mireet cried into O'Bannon's shoulder. He stroked her hair, staring at Jared and Rosa. He glimpsed Artimus, who stood frozen, mouth agape.

"Are . . . are you sure?" O'Bannon whispered to Mireet.

"_Oui,"_ she spoke through her sobbing.

More crying spread through the camp. The children. He noticed Kyon and Deanna hugging one another as they wept. Daedalus had a hand on Kyon's shoulder, all the while looking to Jared and Rosa.

O'Bannon pulled away from Mireet. He still kept an arm around her waist as they approached the cousins. His throat clenched. This didn't seem real. It _couldn't _be real. Mrs. Diaz dead?

He stopped, sensing his legs about to give out. All his focus was on Jared and Rosa, each sob stabbing at his heart. Memories sprang into his mind. His first time in Milmothryn Market, how Mrs. Diaz was so helpful and so patient with him and his parents. All those times he stayed over Jared's, how Mrs. Diaz would make him meals, talk to him about the First Big War, all the advice she gave him for his Defense Against the Dark Arts Class. How she made him feel a part of their family.

He bit off a sob. _Hold it together. _He was a leader. Leaders couldn't afford to cry. They had to be strong for the people around them.

O'Bannon bent down, as did Mireet. Artimus also knelt beside Rosa. He placed his hands on her shoulders.

Teeth clenched, O'Bannon put a hand on Jared's back. Mireet did the same.

"I'm sorry, guys," he said. "I'm so sorry."

That was it. That was all he could think to say. He knew he should say more, but words seemed meaningless right now.

**XXXXX**

O'Bannon kept Rosa and Jared off watch duty for the rest of the night. There'd be no way they could guard the encampment in their current state. He had no idea how much time passed before the two had cried themselves out. No doubt they would shed more tears over the coming days.

Rosa had offered Jared her bed in the girls' tent while she slept on the floor. He accepted. They needed to be together more than ever. O'Bannon just wished he and Artimus could do more than simply hug them and say, "I'm sorry."

He leaned against a tall, leafless tree. A tear trickled down his cheek as he remembered Jared's anguished wails. The realization hit him that in all the years he'd known Jared, he had never seen him cry.

_You expect anything else? He just lost his mother._

Another tear rolled down his cheek. He thought about his own mother and father, hiding somewhere in the Canadian wilderness with the parents of other Muggle-borns. What if something happened to them?

Other people he cared about entered his mind. Jared and Rosa and Artimus. Tonks. The Weasleys. Rana Rollingsworth.

Mireet Miradeaux.

What if one of them was killed in this damn war? Or all of them? How could he go on without his family and friends?

He gritted his teeth when he felt more tears build up.

_Leaders don't cry._

_You're alone. Just let it out._

_What if someone comes by? Or hears me? I gotta stay in control._

He took a couple of deep breaths, pushing down his anguish.

If only it could be that easy for his two best friends.

**XXXXX**

A somber air hung over the group the next day. From their red, puffy eyes and lethargic movements, O'Bannon guessed Jared and Rosa did not sleep very well, if at all. Most of the children offered their condolences, or just hugged them. They quietly ate breakfast, then broke camp and began their daily trek.

The next few days passed in relative silence. Jared and Rosa never seemed more than a foot or two away from one another. Several times when they took breaks, the two would cling to one another, sobbing more often than not. At meal times, O'Bannon and Artimus sat close to the cousins in case they needed to talk. Sometimes he tried to get a conversation going.

"She was a great lady," he told them one night at dinner. "I mean, not just a great auror, but a great person. Art and I loved her, guys."

Jared and Rosa both nodded and uttered a barely perceptible, "Thank you." Then they went back to staring at the campfire or the ground in silence.

The next night they tuned in to another broadcast of _The Truth Monitors. _That only depressed them more. Frankie Freehold ran down the names of those killed at the Battle of Helghorst Island. There were a lot of names. Well over a hundred. Jared shivered, tears running down his cheeks when they announced the name Liana Diaz. Rosa leaned over and hugged him, her head buried in his shoulder. O'Bannon and Artimus provided their own comforting hugs.

The attack on Helghorst Island apparently prompted You-Know-Who's gang in the US to go on a rampage. Several Wizarding communities had been razed. Others experienced horrific attacks by werewolves, reptoids and Dementors. The mutilated bodies of every member of the USQA's St. Louis Stormriders had been found on their field. Freehold speculated they'd been murdered because their captain had been a Muggle-born. The headmaster of the Mount Demilar Wizarding School in Oregon had also been killed, but took six Death Eaters with him.

Attacks on the Muggle World also increased. A school bus in Red Wing, Minnesota supposedly lost control and plunged into the Mississippi River, killing 22. The roof of a high school gymnasium in Savannah, Georgia collapsed during a school dance, killing 18 and injuring many more. A military transport plane landing at the air base in Yuma, Arizona crashed when it was overwhelmed by a "sudden, unexplained" sandstorm. Twenty-five people died in that crash.

Corona Rollingsworth went into her "Word of Warning" segment, urging listeners to, "Stay away from Staley's End in North Carolina, as the Death Eaters have taken it over and turned it into a supply base," when Jared got up and stomped into the boys' tent. Rosa went after him while O'Bannon and Artimus sat with the children and listened to the rest of _The Truth Monitors._ When the show ended, he and Art went to check on the cousins. They found them on the sofa, Jared's face contorted in anger, Rosa grasping his shoulder.

"You guys okay?" O'Bannon asked in a hesitant tone.

Jared's scowl became more pronounced. "When's it gonna stop? When's all this killing gonna stop? When are we gonna start killing those bastards, huh? When!?"

O'Bannon chewed on his lower lip for a moment. "The Guild'll regroup. They'll start beating them. You gotta have faith."

"Faith," Jared scoffed. "Yeah, right."

O'Bannon sighed. He tried to summon up more words of encouragement, but failed. For the first time he could remember, he had serious doubts his side could win this war.

**XXXXX**

The next night, Mireet showed up with a fresh supply of food, and more bad news.

"It may take us longer to secure food for you. The Death Eaters and their allies are everywhere. They have begun watching the embassies in Washington, including mine."

O'Bannon stared at Mireet, his chest collapsing into a black hole of terror. If anything happened to her . . .

_No. God, no. It can't. Not Mireet._

But if _it_ could happen to Mrs. Diaz, it could happen to anyone, including a French witch he cared for very much.

The bad news didn't end there. More former classmates of theirs had been killed. Isaac Pinder, his older brother Paul, a star player for the Blazenrowe Hall hockey team, and the rest of their family, all died at the hands of the Death Eaters.

"Oh Merlin, Isaac." Rosa pressed a hand over her heart. "He would have graduated next year."

O'Bannon hung his head, thinking back to his last year at Salem when Isaac so desperately wanted to join the Blazenrowe hockey team. But he just didn't have the talent of his older brother. He had also been one of the first victims of the Projection Potion, which caused him to crack his stick over O'Bannon's head.

Now he and his family were all dead. And why? Because Paul Pinder had played a Muggle sport at Salem?

"We're not gonna have _any_ former classmates left unless somebody does something." Jared stomped off toward the boys' tent. He didn't come out until it was time for his watch.

The next morning after breakfast, O'Bannon looked over his magical map of the Appalachians, plotting their route for the day.

"Okay, we'll start by going south through Virginia, cut west toward the Allegheny Mountains, then head back and camp for the night near Raphine. But the last leg, we make a big detour around Kennerwhelp." He pointed to the wizarding town twenty miles west of Roanoke, which had a drawing of a dark colored snake coiled around it. "That route should be erratic enough to keep any Death Eaters or their buddies off our trail." He always made sure they never traveled in a straight line. Straight lines were predictable. According to _fake _Mad-Eye Moody, _"In war, if you're predictable, you're dead."_

A sly smile briefly traced his lips. It amused him to no end to use the advice of a Death Eater to help his side. Barty Crouch, Junior played his part too well when he passed himself off as the late, legendary British auror at Hogwarts.

He looked around at the group. "All right. Let's Apparate outta here."

"Wait a minute." Jared held up a hand.

O'Bannon stopped folding the map. "What is it?"

"Why do we want to avoid Kennerwhelp?"

"What do you mean why? We've been avoiding Death Eater towns from day one."

"Well maybe it's time we stop avoiding them."

Artimus furrowed his brow. "What for?"

A determined look formed on Jared's face. "I'm sick and tired of hiding up here, safe and sound, while the Death Eaters are killing everyone. Merlin's beard, ever since Helghorst Island, they've declared open season on anyone they don't think is pure enough to be a wizard. And no one's doing anything about it! Sure as hell we're not doing anything about. I think it's time for that to change."

O'Bannon frowned. "Jared, I understand why you feel that way, and most other times, I'd probably go along with you. But we already have a mission."

"We can do both." Desperation crept into Jared's voice. "We've avoided the Death Eaters for months. We go to Kennerwhelp, kick some ass, and get out before they know what hit 'em."

"Then they'll likely send more searchers into the Appalachians, and they may even find us. It's too risky."

"So we just let You-Know-Who's gang kill anyone they want?"

O'Bannon drew a breath, trying to keep calm. "I'm sure the Guild is doing what they can to prevent that, and once they get back to full strength -"

"And how long will that take?" Jared flung his arms out to his sides. "Months? Years? What if it never happens? Somebody's gotta make 'em pay for killing all those people. Somebody's gotta make 'em pay for killing my mother!"

"Jared, I understand why you wanna kill Death Eaters. I wanna see those SOBs die, too. I liked your mom a lot."

Jared's eyes flared. "You _liked _my mom? You _liked _her. I loved her! She was my mother, dammit!"

"We have eighteen kids to take care of here." An edge crept into O'Bannon's voice.

"What about _my _family!? What about my dad and my brother? Don't they matter!? What about Esteban's wife and their son? Don't they matter!? Or what about Aunt Adelaide and Uncle Cesario?"

"Jared, c'mon." Rosa laid a hand on his arm.

"C'mon, what?" He pulled away from her grasp. "You should be wanting to get back at those bastards, too. You always said that my mom was like a mother to you. Or was that just a bunch of lip service?"

Rosa's jaw fell open. She backed away, a stunned expression on her face.

"That's enough Jared." He stepped closer to his friend, eyes narrowed. "You're outta line."

"Don't give me that crap!" Jared shoved his face inches away from O'Bannon's. "All those times you said you felt like part of our family. If you meant it, you'd be leading the charge to kill those slimebags!"

"It was _your family _who entrusted us to keep these kids safe. In fact, it was _your mother herself_ who told us to keep these kids safe above all else. And I intend to honor her memory by doing that."

"And what about the Death Eaters? Do we just let them get away with killing her?" Jared stomped over to his cousin. "C'mon, Rosa. You know I'm right. This is _our family _we're talking about."

Rosa's eyes flickered from Jared to O'Bannon to the children. Her shoulders heaved with slow breaths. Long seconds passed before she hung her head. "Jared, I'm . . . I'm sorry. I loved Aunt Liana, and I'd love to get revenge on the bastards that killed her. But Jimmy's right. Aunt Liana would have wanted us to keep these children safe, not blow up Death Eater towns."

Jared took a shaky step back, his wide eyes locked on Rosa. She couldn't even look him in the eye.

He scowled and stormed past her. Rosa failed to contain a sob.

"Art!"

Artimus swallowed as Jared marched up to him.

"Art, I know you want a crack at those slimy pricks. They killed your brother. _Right in front of you._ Tell me you wanna kill 'em."

"I . . . I . . ." Artimus' jaw trembled for a few moments. "I think I have to go with Jimmy on this."

Jared's face twisted in anger. "Yeah. Of course you'd say that. Anything Jimmy says or does, you automatically go along with it. How about one time in your life, think for your damn self!"

"That's . . . ENOUGH!"

O'Bannon stomped over to Jared. "We are not going to attack Kennerwhelp or _any other town!_ Especially not with you this pissed off! What did I always say when we played hockey at Salem. You play angry, you make mistakes."

"This isn't a hockey game!"

"I know! Because out here if you make a mistake, you die! And it's my responsibility to make sure that doesn't happen to anyone here!"

O'Bannon drew a breath. "We are Apparating out of here now. And I don't wanna hear another word about killing Death Eaters. Got it?"

Jared glowered at him. "Sure. Fine. Whatever."

With a parting glare, Jared walked away.

O'Bannon tried to calm himself. _Inhale through the nose, exhale through the mouth. _After a few breaths, he looked at the children. My God, he completely forgot they were around, watching this whole scene.

A few of them, mostly girls, cried softly to themselves. Others just stared at him in shock.

He clenched his teeth, wishing they could have had this blow-up in one of the tents, away from such a young audience.

**XXXXX**

Hardly anyone spoke the entire day. Dinner was just as quiet. Jared ate by himself in the boys' tent. No one dared disturb him.

After the kids went to bed, Rosa took first watch, leaving O'Bannon to sleep. Or try to at any rate. He laid in his bed, staring at the ceiling. Anger burned inside him. Anger at Jared, yes, but more anger at himself. He hated having to yell at Jared like that. He doubted he ever went off like that on people he despised, like Merak Mather or Draco Malfoy. Yet there he was this morning, screaming at one of his best friends, the first wizard his own age he ever met.

He rolled on his side, clutching the edge of his mattress. He could so clearly picture that wonderful day in Milmothryn Market, getting his school supplies, and listening to Jared's constant wisecracks and questions about the Muggle World. Even when they became involved in operations for the Guild of the Light, Jared's sense of humor never abandoned him.

O'Bannon tried to smile, thinking of how Jared raved about the girls at Hogwarts, especially the Patil twins. Or when he badgered Bill Weasley about how to pick up a woman like Fleur Delacour. Or trying, and failing miserably, to dress like Indiana Jones.

Or the time they were at Hogwarts and Jared saved him from being captured by that auror.

He thumped his mattress. Why did he have to yell like that?

_You were captain for Blazenrowe's hockey team. There were times you had to kick some ass to maintain discipline. _

_Yeah, but Jared's mom just died. Maybe I could have been a little more . . ._

He stopped himself from using the word "sensitive." He hated that word. It made him sound like a wuss.

_Understanding. I should have been more understanding. The guy's my friend, and he's hurting right now._

O'Bannon groaned. _Once again, another thing I could have handled better._

"Jimmy!" A female voice resonated through the tent.

He sat up, grabbing his wand from the nightstand. Footsteps pounded on the floor.

"Jimmy!" It was Rosa, knocking on the door.

"Yeah. Come in."

The door flew open. Rosa stumbled in, looking worried.

"Rosa? What's -"

"It's Jared. He's gone."

_**TO BE CONTINUED**_


	15. Fear For A Friend

**CHAPTER 15: FEAR FOR A FRIEND**

* * *

O'Bannon threw off his blankets and bolted out of bed. "What do you mean he's gone?"

Rosa took a breath, trying to compose herself. "I was standing watch and noticed someone walking nearby. It was Jared. I started calling to him, but he ignored me, and he kept walking until he was outside the wards. And then . . . then he just Apparated."

Anger and guilt collided inside him. Anger that Jared would just suddenly leave, and guilt that maybe he should have done more to help his friend cope with his mother's death.

"Go get Artimus."

Rosa nodded and hurried out of the bedroom.

O'Bannon snatched his coat, hanging from one of the bedposts. He dug through the inside pocket until he found the magical map.

_Dammit, Jared. What the hell are you thinking? _He clenched his teeth, spread the map on his bed and used his wand to light the lamp on the nightstand. He had just started studying the map when Rosa returned with Artimus.

"Did you find him?" Worry tinged Rosa's voice.

"Not yet." O'Bannon scanned the map's illustrated forests and towns.

His eyes stopped on one town in particular, one with a snake coiled around it.

Kennerwhelp.

A dot stood out in the middle of the town. Next to it was the name JARED DIAZ.

Tensing, he turned to Rosa and Artimus. "He's in Kennerwhelp."

"What?" Artimus' eyes widened. "But that's where . . . that's the town he wanted us to attack."

"You don't think . . ." An expression of anger and dread spread over Rosa's face. "Oh Merlin, he's gonna do this himself. We gotta get him." She started for the door.

"_I'm _going to get him."

She spun to face O'Bannon. "What?"

"I'm the only one going after Jared. You two stay here."

"Dammit, Jimmy. He's my cousin."

"I know, Rosa. But if worse comes to worse, it's better to have two people protecting these kids instead of one."

"Jimmy . . ."

"We don't have time to argue." He shoved the magical map at Rosa. "You give us one hour. If we're not back by then, Apparate everyone to . . ." He was about to pick one of their designated rally points, but stopped himself. "Take them somewhere. If the Death Eaters catch me and make me talk, I won't be able to give up you guys. Got it?"

Rosa nodded, tears welling up in her eyes. Her jaw stiffened as she threw her arms around him. "Be careful. Please bring him back."

"I will."

"You'll get him. You'll both be fine. I-I know it." Artimus tried to sound confident, though his expression displayed nothing but worry.

O'Bannon nodded to him. An ice cold sensation rushed down his spine. He looked at Rosa and Artimus and fought off a shiver. Would this be the last time he ever saw these two?

_I don't wanna die._

He also didn't want Jared to die, either.

Rosa and Artimus left his bedroom. He dressed quickly and rushed out of the tent. His legs pumped furiously. Cold air stung his lungs. He dodged trees, stumbling a couple times in his haste.

_C'mon!_

What if he was already too late? What if Jared was dead? For some reason, he thought back to that first day in Milmothryn Market when Jared was making fun of that author Gilderoy Lockhart. Another image sprang to mind. A horrific one. Jared lying dead in the streets of Kennerwhelp, surrounded by Death Eaters.

_No, no, no. Please, no._

And suddenly he was outside the wards.

O'Bannon closed his eyes. _Kennerwhelp._

_Crack!_

His body was pulled in a thousand different directions. An instant later he felt whole again.

He opened his eyes and saw chaos.

Flames covered the slanted roofs of two wooden buildings. Two hooded figures lay on the ground unmoving. Multi-colored bolts shot back and forth across the street. Three more hooded figures stood near one of the burning buildings. Across the street from them a lone figure crouched behind the corner of a house situated at the intersection of two dirt roads. The figure stuck his wand around the corner and unleashed a barrage of spells, all blocked by the Death Eaters.

_That's gotta be Jared._

Hexes and curses flew from the Death Eaters' wands. Jared spun around the corner, pressing his back against the wall. Bolts slammed into the house. Splinters of wood and shards of glass exploded from the structure.

O'Bannon got to one knee and aimed his wand. _"Cado!"_

The burning roof above the Death Eaters trembled. A cascade of burning wood surged forward, spilling over the side. The sight made O'Bannon think of a hell-spawned waterfall.

The fiery debris crashed down on two of the Death Eaters. The third jumped out of the way at the last second.

Tortured cries rose from the pile of flaming wood. O'Bannon shivered.

_Oh my God. I did that._

_They're Death Eaters. They woulda killed you and Jared._

_Those screams._

The thoughts flew from his mind when he noticed something.

The remaining Death Eater stared right at him.

O'Bannon ran for the house.

"_Flamma Cometes!"_

A fireball shot from the Death Eater's wand.

"_Protego!"_ Tremors raced up O'Bannon's arm as the artificial comet exploded against his Shield Charm.

The Death Eater pointed his wand again at him. _"Flamma Co-"_

"_Everbero!"_

A Battering Spell flashed across the street and struck the Death Eater square in the face. His head snapped back. O'Bannon flinched when he heard a sickening _crack!_

The hooded figure crumpled to the ground and didn't move.

O'Bannon ran toward the house, wincing as the sound echoed in his mind. Like a twig being snapped, magnified a hundred times. Only it wasn't a twig. It was a person's neck.

_A Death Eater. It was a Death Eater._

The sound stuck in his head.

Jared turned to him, shoulders rising and falling. Even in the darkness, he could make out a toothy, humorless smile on his friend's face.

"Jimmy. So you did decide to come. Where's Rosa and Art? There's gotta be more Death Eaters here to -"

He grabbed Jared's collar and pulled him inches from his face. "What the hell's wrong with you?"

"I'm doing what you wouldn't!" Jared roared in O'Bannon's face. "I'm fighting back!"

"You're gonna get yourself killed!"

Distant _cracks _carried through the night air. People were Disapparating. Lots of people.

"Hear that?" he told Jared through clenched teeth. "That's more Death Eaters."

"Good. More of them to kill."

"Dammit, Jared! We're outnumbered!"

"I don't care! Let go of me! I'm gonna kill them!"

Jared pushed O'Bannon. He stumbled, but still held on to his friend's collar. Jared gave him another shove. Something ripped. O'Bannon stumbled again, losing his grip on Jared. His fingers clenched around a piece of cloth.

He watched Jared stalk across the street. His chest tightened in fear. Did Jared _want _to die?

_Not while I'm around._

"_Stupefy!"_

The red bolt nailed Jared in the back. He pitched forward and fell onto the dirt road.

O'Bannon hurried over and knelt beside him. He clamped a hand on Jared's shoulder and picked up his fallen wand just as he sensed movement ahead of him.

Five Death Eaters raced down the road toward them.

He raised his other hand, smiled, and flipped the bastards the middle finger.

_Crack!_

And they were gone.

O'Bannon released a long breath as they Disapparated just outside the encampment. He looked down at his unconscious friend, guilt stabbing at him. Outside of Defense Against the Dark Arts class or Guild of the Light training, he never had to stun Jared for real.

He continued staring at his friend, thinking back to his words, his tone, the fury radiating from his face and eyes, how he gave no thought to facing a big group of Death Eaters. O'Bannon shivered, wondering if Jared ever intended to return from Kennerwhelp.

_Could he really be . . . suicidal?_

Jared groaned and stirred. He pushed himself to all fours and turned to O'Bannon.

"You okay?"

Jared just glared at him.

"By the way, you're welcome."

Jared drew a slow, angry breath. "Did you stun me?"

"What the hell was I supposed to do? Let you get killed? Is that what you want?"

Jared didn't answer. That fact scared O'Bannon.

"C'mon, get up." He helped Jared to his feet, none-too-gently, and handed him his wand after a moment's hesitation. O'Bannon made sure his friend walked in front of him, just in case . . .

_My God, would he really attack me?_ Just an hour ago he would have never even entertained such a thought. Now . . .

Jared just walked back to the camp in silence.

Rosa and Artimus stood outside the boys' tent, Rosa pacing, her arms folded. Artimus also had his arms folded, rocking back and forth on his heels and staring at the ground. At the crunch of Jared's footfalls, the two looked up.

"Jared," Artimus stated, his rather flat tone surprising O'Bannon.

Rosa said nothing. She stood statue-still, her eyes boring in on her cousin.

"I did it, Rosa." Jared strode up to her. "I killed 'em. Three of them. I showed 'em there are still people out there who aren't afraid to fight. I made 'em pay for what they did to my mom. You shoulda been -"

Rosa belted him. Jared almost spun completely around, his hand covering his mouth.

"You stupid son-of-a-bitch!" She shook with rage. "I already lost one family member! Do you think I want to lose two?"

She stormed off. After a few steps she completely broke down. Artimus hurried over and wrapped his arms around Rosa.

Jared just looked at her, his eyes flickering between Rosa and his fingertips, which were stained with blood.

O'Bannon walked up to him. Jared stared at him, gingerly touching his bloody lip. O'Bannon looked from him to Rosa, still weeping, still being held by Artimus.

"So was it worth it?"

The two continued to stare at one another, Rosa's crying the only sound penetrating their silence.

_**TO BE CONTINUED**_


	16. Intervention

**CHAPTER 16: INTERVENTION**

* * *

Rosa stood over Jared's bed, arms folded, watching him sleep. She kept her breathing steady, trying to settle her conflicting emotions. One part of her wanted to hug him and take away all the pain he felt over the loss of his mother. Another part wanted to belt him . . . again. Did he have any idea how worried she'd been last night? She constantly checked her watch, dreading that one hour deadline Jimmy had set, terrified she would never see her cousin or her best friend again.

Jared continued to sleep peacefully.

She glared at him. He didn't deserve such peace, not after what he put them all through.

She glanced at Jimmy and Artimus, standing on either side of her. Guilt poured through her for that last thought. She didn't want to believe it when Jimmy had told her. Jared? Suicidal? How could that be? He was so happy-go-lucky, always joking, always finding ways to push her buttons for his own amusement.

But that Jared existed in what seemed the distant past. Too much had happened since that horrible day in August when Hector Rand was murdered in front of them and they took the children into the mountains. Too much death, too much despair. It wore away at Jared until his cheerfulness had been replaced by anger. Some of that cheerfulness reemerged during and after Christmas. She thought back to that night around the campfire when they told stories about their school days, Jared making fun of her beloved bunny slippers. She felt the old Jared had finally returned to her, to all of them.

Then Mireet appeared, bringing news of Aunt Liana's death.

Rosa bit her lip as she stared at him, imagining all the grief and rage inside him. She knew she had no choice but to accept Jimmy's fears. What else could she do after he'd asked Jared if he wanted to die, and her cousin had no response?

She turned to Jimmy. He emitted a determined grunt and nodded to her. She nodded back, and bent over the bed.

"Jared. Wake up." She shoved his shoulder.

He groaned and stirred.

"Wake up." Her tone became more forceful.

He groaned again and slowly sat up, his eyes half-open. His face twisted as he gazed at the three of them. "What gives?"

"'What gives'?" Rosa's eyes widened. She fought down the urge to punch him. "After everything that happened last night, that's all you have to say?"

His face sagged. He turned away from them and stared at the blankets covering his legs.

"You know what you did last night?" Jimmy's eyes narrowed. "You didn't just put yourself in danger, you put _every one of us in danger._ What if the Death Eaters captured you? What if they got you to talk and reveal our location? Did you ever think of that? Did that ever cross your mind before you decided to go off and play one-man army? If the Death Eaters found us, all these kids would be either dead or being tortured."

Jared's head lowered even more.

"Did you want to die last night?" Rosa tensed, fearing the answer.

He sighed quietly, then shrugged his shoulders.

"No. That's not good enough." Rosa plopped down on the edge of the bed. "Jimmy asked you that question last night, and you never answered him. Now answer me."

Jared never raised his head. He pushed himself against the headboard.

Rosa grabbed his shoulders and shook him. "Answer me, dammit! Did you want to die? Answer me!"

"I don't know!" Tears welled up in Jared's eyes.

"How the hell could you not know something like that?"

"I just . . ." A tear ran down his cheek. "I just wanted to kill Death Eaters. I . . . I didn't even care what happened to me. What would it matter if I never came back anyway?"

"You're our friend," Jimmy stated. "It would matter."

Artimus nodded.

Rosa exhaled harshly. "Did you ever think what it would mean to us if we lost you? What it would mean to _me?"_

Jared scoffed. "Oh, come on. You'd do fine without me. Better, probably. Face it, Rosa, you were always better than me in spellwork. You're smarter than me, you're closer to these kids than me, you're more of a leader than I'll ever be. You're just better than me, period."

"You think _that's_ how I judge your worth? You think I really care which one of us casts the best Shield Charm or which one of us can think on our feet better? Losing you would affect me because we're family. We've been together since we were in diapers. I love you." A tear slid down her cheek. Her voice quivered. "I don't know if I could cope if I lost both Aunt Liana _and _you."

Jared turned away from her. His head quaked. Tears flowed from his eyes.

Rosa took hold of his hand. "Think about Uncle Irving. Think about Esteban. Imagine what they must be going through. They lost a wife and a mother. How much more would they hurt if they lost you, too?"

She slid closer to him, putting her other hand atop Jared's mussed, curly hair. "And what about little Rodolfo? Do you want him growing up with just stories about what a great guy his Uncle Jared was, or do you want him to see it for himself?"

Jared shut his eyes tight. His entire body shuddered.

Jimmy and Artimus stepped closer to the bed. Jimmy laid a hand on Jared's shoulder, his tone softer than before.

"You don't have to go through this alone, man. You need to talk, you know you can come to any of us."

"Yeah." Artimus nodded.

Jared's lips tightened. He nodded and turned back to Rosa. A sob burst from his throat.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

He fell against her. Rosa's throat clenched as she hugged him tight. She closed her eyes, fighting off her own tears. She couldn't afford to cry right now. Jared needed her to be strong.

She opened her watery eyes. Jimmy gently patted Jared's back, then turned to Artimus and nodded behind them. Art briefly grasped Jared's shoulder before following Jimmy out of the bedroom.

Rosa drew unsteady breaths as Jared cried into her shoulder, clinging to her desperately.

"I miss her," he spoke through his sobs. "I just want her back."

"So do I."

Each sob from Jared pulsated through her body. She could feel every bit of his pain, which added to her own.

"It'll be all right." Her voice cracked. "It really will."

She couldn't fight it any longer. She cried along with Jared.

_**TO BE CONTINUED**_


	17. Familiar Voices

**CHAPTER 17: FAMILIAR VOICES**

* * *

" . . . so Carlton Fisk waved his arms, urging the ball to get fair. And it curved around the foul pole and cleared the Green Monster for a home run, and the Red Sox won Game Six of the '75 World Series."

O'Bannon tacked on a smile as he looked down at Holly lying in her bed, wrapped snuggly in her blankets. She gave him a half-smile. He responded the same. Much as he tried, he couldn't summon the energy or the creativity for his bedtime stories as he had in the past. It just didn't feel right to laugh and have fun with so many people they knew dead and the Death Eaters' bloody rampage showing no sign of ending.

"You good to go to sleep now?" he asked.

"Mm-hmm." Holly nodded.

"Okay." He patted her on the head. "Good night, Holly. Sweet dreams." He wondered if any of them could have sweet dreams these days.

O'Bannon got out of the small wooden chair next to Holly's bed and stepped toward the door.

"Coach Jimmy?"

"Yeah, kiddo?" He turned back to her.

"Do you think we'll ever go home? I miss my mommy and daddy and I'm worried about them."

O'Bannon sighed. Many of the kids had expressed similar worries over the past few weeks. At times, he was hesitant to reassure them they'd eventually be reunited with their families. After all, he never imagined anything would happen to Jared's mother. But he just didn't have the heart to tell them the truth that anyone could get snuffed out these days.

"I'm sure you'll be home one day with your parents. You just gotta have hope."

He kept himself from frowning at that last word. He couldn't count how many times he felt all hope had vanished from the world. Not that he could show it, or admit it to anyone. He was a leader. He had to appear confident, even if he didn't really feel that way.

O'Bannon went back to the boys' tent. He walked down the little hallway containing the bedrooms, lingering by Jared's room. He'd been doing better, more willing to talk whenever he felt depressed. Well, he talked to him and Rosa. Not Artimus. Jared had said some nasty things to him the night of the Kennerwhelp attack. But two weeks had passed since then. They should have both gotten over it.

O'Bannon made for his room, and settled into bed. He closed his eyes, trying to force sleep to come.

It wouldn't.

Worry filled his mind, especially for one witch in particular.

He reached up for his coat hanging from the bedpost. He removed the magical map, laid back down, and just stared at it. His eyes slowly went over the drawings of forests and mountains and towns.

_She's still all right._

It had been nearly two weeks since he last saw Mireet. That was the longest she'd ever gone between visits. He knew the Death Eaters were watching foreign embassies more closely. They hadn't made a move against any of them . . . yet.

He thought about the charm Mireet cast on this map and hers. Should either of them die, or if a Death Eater touched it, both maps would burst into flames. So long as he had this map, he knew Mireet was okay.

O'Bannon sighed and held the map against his chest. When he closed his eyes, images of Mireet flooded his mind. Her skating so gracefully during one of their hockey practices at Hogwarts. The night of the Yule Ball, how absolutely beautiful she looked in that form-fitting silver gown. His unexpected reunion with her in Normandy following the Longathian Tunnel Affair. Her alluring smile, her silky voice, the warmth that radiated from her eyes.

He hugged the map tighter, wishing more than anything he had his arms around Mireet instead.

_If it wasn't for this damn war . . ._

If it wasn't for this war, Mireet wouldn't even be in the US. She only came here to work in the French Embassy at the behest of _Force d'Vigilant._ If Voldemort had never returned, she would be back in France right now.

_But she's here now. Maybe I should take Rosa's advice and . . . do something about it._

O'Bannon groaned at the thought. Like they could really start something right now. And he had too much respect for Mireet to say, "Let's go into my tent for a quick shag."

He continued hugging the map. Part of him thought it stupid, embracing a piece of parchment. But right now, it was his closest link to Mireet.

**XXXXX**

The next day they hiked and Apparated throughout the mountains of Virginia and West Virginia. They had an abysmal time hunting, catching just a couple rabbits. Spring was about a month away. More animals would be out then.

But they couldn't afford to wait a month. They had to eat now.

Without many animals around, Rosa gave them a survival tip she learned from her grandfather, who had also been an auror.

"You can actually eat tree bark."

And they did. The quartet used their wands to peel off handfuls of bark. Sometimes they cooked it, other times they ate it as is. No matter what they did with it, it still tasted horrible.

_What the hell can you do? It's tree bark, for Merlin's sake._

A few times O'Bannon tried to imagine it as something else, like a sirloin steak or a slice of pizza. It never worked, not when he had that dry, sticky taste in his mouth.

That evening they sat around the campfire eating their bark, and ignoring Vance's constant piss-moaning about it. O'Bannon's eyes darted to the radio every few seconds. According to the magical code embedded in the device, tonight would be the night for another broadcast of _The Truth Monitors_. More and more he dreaded that show, as it now seemed nothing but a litany of death and destruction.

Tonight's broadcast was no different. Frankie Freehold reported on more wizarding communities being burned to the ground, more deaths, and more attacks on the Muggle World. By some small miracle, the quartet hadn't recognized any of the dead named tonight.

Lawrence Rollingsworth delivered another message to inspire hope, talking about the darkest days during the First Big War and how, "Our side ultimately triumphed in the end." But O'Bannon could tell the man's voice lacked its usual confidence. How could anyone project confidence in the face of this carnage?

Corona Rollingsworth's "Word of Warning" segment was lengthier than usual. "The full moon is two days away. Expect more werewolf attacks . . . Always double-check your wards first thing in the morning and before you go to bed . . . Time for a refresher course on Stunning Spells and Shield Charms . . . Some of the worst Death Eater attacks in the past week have occurred in North Carolina and Missouri. People in those states may want to consider abandoning their homes and hiding in the woods or the mountains."

Rana Rollingsworth spoke next about some of the more prominent Muggle-borns in American Wizarding history. O'Bannon only half-listened to his ex-girlfriend's words, concentrating more on her voice. She didn't speak in her usual chipper tone.

He hated thinking how depressed Rana must be. It didn't matter their brief relationship ended over two years ago. Part of him wished he could be with her, hug her, reassure her things would be okay, and maybe, just maybe, see her smile. Rana had such a beautiful smile. O'Bannon remembered the first time he ever saw it, his very first dinner at the Salem Witches Institute, when she launched into an animated talk about Quidditch. He smiled when he recalled the way she waved her hands about to demonstrate various moves, to the point he feared she'd smack the people sitting around her.

Rana's passionate talk on Quidditch remained one of his fondest memories of his first night at Salem.

"Thanks, Rana," said Frankie Freehold. "Some very good points, as always."

After a brief pause, the former Quidditch announcer went on. "Okay, loyal listeners, we now have a very special treat for you. I'm sure many of you are curious to know what's really happening in England, being that is You-Know-Who's native country, and in a way, _the _central front of this war. Well, tonight you'll find out. This recording you're about to hear was smuggled out of England and brought to America at great risk. Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you, _Potterwatch."_

O'Bannon exchanged glances with his three friends. A mix of anticipation and apprehension filled the air around them. Would they hear news about their friends? Would that news be the kind they didn't want to hear? Were the British scoring victories against You-Know-Who, or were they losing as well?

His jaw tightened and his heart sped up as he stared at the radio.

"Good evening, everyone, and let me say we're pleased to be back with a brand new edition of your favorite 'subversive' program, _Potterwatch."_

"Oh my God!" O'Bannon nearly jumped at the radio.

"What?" a stunned Artimus asked.

He continued to gawk at the radio. It took a couple seconds for him to finally answer. "That's Lee Jordan!"

"Fred and George's friend?" Rosa blurted. "Really?"

"First off," the voice from the radio continued. "We apologize for our temporary absence from the airwaves, which was due to a number of house calls in our area by those charming Death Eaters."

"Damn, you're right." Jared leaned closer to the radio. "It is Lee."

A huge grin spread across O'Bannon's face. _Good to know Lee's okay._

Lee, or "River" as he was called on the show, announced they would be hearing from two regular contributors named "Royal" and "Romulus."

"But before we hear from Royal and Romulus, let's take a moment to report those deaths that the _Wizarding Wireless News Network _and _The Daily Prophet_ don't think important enough to mention."

O'Bannon's chest tightened. He noticed Rosa clutching her hands tightly, while both Jared and Artimus stared at the ground.

_Please no one we know. Please no one we know._

"It's with great regret that we inform our listeners of the murders of Ted Tonks and Dirk Cresswell."

Rosa gasped, her hands covering her mouth. Artimus closed his eyes and shook his head.

"Aw, man." Jared slumped to his side. "Not Mister Tonks."

A lump formed in O'Bannon's throat. The four of them had stayed with the Tonks family following their escape from Hogwarts during the Longathian Tunnel Affair. Ted Tonks was a good natured guy, though he had given him some very appraising stares before O'Bannon left England, like he knew he'd taken many, many liberties with his very hot daughter.

O'Bannon clenched his teeth. His heart went out to Tonks, and her mother, Andromeda. After dealing with Jared and Rosa over the past few weeks, he had a very good idea what the two women must be going through.

Lee continued, "A goblin by the name of Gornuk was also killed. It is believed that Muggle-born Dean Thomas and a second goblin, both believed to have been traveling with Tonks, Cresswell and Gornuk, may have escaped. If Dean is listening, or if anyone has any knowledge of his whereabouts, his parents and sisters are desperate for news."

O'Bannon let out a frustrated sigh. He and Dean had been teammates on the Triad hockey team. More importantly, they had become good friends. Memories flashed through his mind of him, Dean and many times Seamus Finnigan hanging out in the Gryffindor Common Room talking about Muggle music.

He closed his eyes, praying Dean was still alive.

Lee reported more deaths, a Muggle family of five in Gaddley, and a witch in Godric's Hollow named Bathilda Bagshot. He asked for a moment of silence in honor of their memory. The quartet obliged, as did the children.

Lee then introduced the person named Royal, who urged wizards and witches to do what they could to protect Muggles from attacks by Death Eaters. O'Bannon's brow furrowed. The man's deep voice sounded vaguely familiar.

"Wait a minute." Artimus pointed to the radio. "I know who he is now. That bald auror we met at The Burrow. Um . . ." He snapped his fingers, trying to remember the name.

Rosa beat him to it. "Oh yeah. Kingsley Shacklebolt."

O'Bannon nodded. He never got to know the Shacklebolt very well, but many of his friends in England had a high opinion of the man.

"And what would you say, Royal, to those listeners who reply that in these dangerous times, it should be 'Wizards first'?" asked Lee.

"I'd say that it's one short step from 'Wizards first' to 'Purebloods first,' and then to 'Death Eaters.' We're all human, aren't we? Every human life is worth the same, and worth saving."

"Amen to that." Rosa pumped a fist.

"That Royal guy makes a good point, huh?" Daedalus looked around at the children. Every one of them, even Vance, nodded or voiced their agreement.

After Royal came the man named Romulus, who O'Bannon instantly recognized as Remus Lupin.

_I still can't believe he and Tonks are married._ That whole thing seemed to come right out of the blue.

"Romulus, do you maintain, as you have every time you've appeared on our program, that Harry Potter is alive?"

"I do," Lupin said firmly. "There is no doubt at all in my mind that his death would be proclaimed as widely as possible by the Death Eaters if it happened, because it would strike a deadly blow at the morale of those resisting the new regime. 'The Boy Who Lived' remains a symbol of everything for which we are fighting. The triumph of good, the power of innocence, the need to keep resisting."

"Yeah!" Jared shot out a fist. It was the most animated he'd been in weeks.

"Mister Lupin's right." O'Bannon looked around at his group. "No way would You-Know-Who keep Harry's death a secret. He's still alive, and probably being a pain in the ass to Lord Fartknocker."

Many of the children laughed at the "Lord Fartknocker" comment.

"Harry Potter'll kill him," Holly piped up.

"Yeah," said Madson. "He kicked You-Know-Who's butt before, he can it again."

That elicited more cheers from the children. Rosa also added a loud, "Yeah!" of her own.

Unfortunately, the news got worse after that. Lupin reported that Luna Lovegood's father, who ran a crazy magazine called _The Quibbler_, had been thrown into Azkaban for writing articles in support of Harry Potter. O'Bannon's gut twisted. Luna was . . . unique, but he had gotten along with her well at Hogwarts. He knew she was very close with her father.

_She must be worried out of her mind. _He swallowed at another horrible thought. Did the Death Eaters do anything to Luna? The daughter paying for the sins of the father?

_They're Death Eaters. What do you think?_

He shivered at the thought of Luna being tortured, maybe even . . . killed. She always struck him as harmless. Wise at times, but relatively harmless. For God's sake, the girl babbled on about wrackspurts and nargles. How could she be a threat to anyone?

Lupin went on to say the Death Eaters had also gone after Hagrid for organizing a "Support Harry Potter" party. Luckily, the Hogwarts Care of Magical Creatures teacher got away.

"Well there's some good news finally," O'Bannon said. "If we're lucky, maybe Hagrid'll round up some dragons and Manticores and sic 'em on the Death Eaters. If anyone can do it, he can."

That earned him some polite chuckles from his friends.

"And now, listeners," Lee continued. "It's my distinct pleasure to introduce the first of two new correspondents to _Potterwatch._ Now one of the main reasons for this mess we're in is prejudice. We know what the Death Eaters are prejudiced about. Can't let those pesky Muggle-borns go running about, can they? Well, even some of us on the right side of the war can harbor prejudices. Anyone sorted into either Gryffindor or Slytherin knows we tend to loathe one another on general principle. _But, _there are those of the Slytherin persuasion who want nothing to do with Lord If-He's-So-Bleedin'-Powerful-How-Come-He-Can't-Kill-A-One-Year-Old. And we'd like to introduce you to one of them. Welcome our new correspondent, Misfit."

"Thank you for having me on your program, River, and allowing me to clear up some misconceptions about my House."

"Muh-Merlin's beard." Artimus gaped at the radio. So did O'Bannon, Jared and Rosa.

"No way," Jared said in a stunned whisper. "You gotta be kidding me."

"It's her, it's really her." Artimus slid closer to the radio, his unblinking gaze locked on it.

Like Artimus, O'Bannon found himself gaping at the radio. Never did he expect to hear that voice again. But coming from the speaker was the unmistakable, haughty tone of Cecilia Malfoy.

He could barely concentrate on the young woman's words, his mind pulling him back over two years. Cecilia, whose father had been kicked to the curb by the Malfoys for marrying a Muggle-born, had unknowingly been given the Projection Potion by her roommate Serinta Sejent, which sent the entire student population of Salem into uncontrollable fits of jealousy. After Serinta had been stopped, the Order of the Phoenix took Cecilia into protective custody.

It was also during that period that Artimus and Cecilia had fallen in love.

". . . Maybe Salazar Slytherin wanted blood purity to be a factor in who is sorted into his House, but I have never seen anything in his known writings which advocates the torture and murder of those not deemed pure enough. The very values of Slytherin House _do not_ advocate wanton slaughter of those who disagree with us. Our values, ambition, cunning and resourcefulness, are _noble values_. But they have been corrupted and twisted to justify a madman's lust for power. I am a Slytherin, and I am proud to be one, but I will tell you that I have _never _had a desire to kill _anyone._ And unlike many from Slytherin, I harbor _no ill will _toward Muggle-borns. In fact, the dirty little secret You-Know-Who doesn't want bandied about is that in the thousand years since the founding of Hogwarts, _there have been Muggle-borns sorted into Slytherin._ So much for this blood purity rot.

"Thank you for letting me share my views with you, and show that not all Slytherins support You-Know-Who."

"You're welcome, Misfit," said Lee. "Never thought I'd be so cordial to a Slytherin. Maybe there is hope for our world."

A forlorn smile traced Artimus' lips. Rosa reached out and gently grasped his wrist, giving him a supportive smile.

O'Bannon looked at his friend and frowned, guilt bubbling up inside him. He had automatically disliked Cecilia the moment he saw her, simply because of the green and silver snake logo on her robes. Maybe if he hadn't been consumed with the usual Gryffindor hatred of Slytherin, he might have been a more supportive of Artimus' relationship with Cecilia.

The x-factor in all that was, of course, the damn Projection Potion.

"And now let's move on to news concerning the wizard who is proving just as elusive as Harry Potter. We like to refer to him as the Chief Death Eater, and here to give his views on some of the more insane rumors circulating about him, I'd like to introduce another new correspondent: Rodent."

"Rodent?" a new voice blurted from the wireless.

O'Bannon gasped loudly, surprise slamming into him. It couldn't be.

"I'm not being 'Rodent,' no way. I told you I wanted to be 'Rapier'!"

"Oh my God!" O'Bannon slid on his knees until he was right next to the radio. "It's Fred!"

"Merlin's snowy white beard." Unbelievably, Jared smiled, his first legitimate smile in weeks. "It is Fred!"

Fred reported that people had been spotting Lord Voldemort not only across England, but across Continental Europe as well, to the point that, "We must have a good nineteen You-Know-Whos running around the place." He also dispelled a ridiculous claim that Voldemort could kill with a single glance of his eyes. The "Chief Death Eater" may be very powerful, but even he couldn't pull that one off.

_Yet._

Lee came back on the air. "Now I'd like to bring you some great news. The listenership to _Potterwatch _is about to go through the roof. How, you ask? Well, thanks to some friends of international origin, we will now send recordings of _Potterwatch _to various countries also fighting Death Eaters and other You-Know-Who lackeys. And being this is our first international edition of _Potterwatch, _Rod . . . er, Rapier would like to acknowledge four Yanks who have come to mean a great deal to many of us here in Britain."

The quartet exchanged incredulous glances with one another.

"That's correct, River," Fred came back on. "Many of you may remember this Muggle-born bloke from The States who liked to shoot these little black cakes called pucks across the ice and whose alphabet lacked the letter 'R' . . ."

"Screw you, Weasley," O'Bannon said as he chuckled.

"Yes, I'm talking about the one and only Jimmy O'Bannon, who three years ago introduced Hogwarts to the Muggle game of hockey. He made a lot of friends here, and those friends are anxious for news about him, given the fact some Death Eaters in high places have reported him as no longer among the living."

O'Bannon bit his lip, wondering how his friends in England took that news. _That lie._

"We can confirm that Jimmy O'Bannon is alive and well back in his native U.S. of A. However, he is on the run with his best mates Artimus Rand, Jared Diaz and Rosa Infante. See, You-Know-Who's goons in America are a bit upset with them, as Jimmy dared to teach a bunch of Wizarding kids hockey. Now Jimmy and his friends are in hiding, protecting these kids from the Death Eaters. Just like Harry Potter, they've been on the run for over seven months now, and the Death Eaters still haven't caught them. Folks, if those hooded plonkers can't find Harry Potter in our little island country, what makes you think they're going to find Jimmy's lot in a country the size of America? Oi, River. Perhaps we can get a debate going here. Which country has the most incompetent Death Eaters? Britain or America?"

"That's probably a toss-up. After all, how could anyone with a modicum of intelligence ever become a Death Eater?"

"Good point, River."

"And on that note, listeners . . ."

"Oi! Hang on a tic."

"What now, Rodent?"

"That's _Rapier!"_

The quartet and the kids laughed.

"Before we go, a, um, certain person I am associated with wanted me to pass along a very special message to a very special young lady who, according to him, looks absolutely fit even with a broken nose."

Rosa loudly drew in a breath. She pressed a hand against her heart as she gazed at the radio.

"Here goes," said Fred. "'Luv, it's me, the most devilishly handsome man in the British Isles' - well, _second _most devilishly handsome next to me, of course. Anyway, continuing on, 'Seeing as this program will be broadcast in The States, I just wanted to tell you that I'm doing well and fighting the good fight. I know you're doing the same because you are the toughest woman I've ever met, along with being the most fit.'"

In the campfire's light, O'Bannon saw Rosa blush.

"'I know things are hard, but I know we will see it through, and maybe one day we can get together and pick up where we left off. I think about you a lot. I hope you're doing the same with me. Take care of yourself, and keep kicking Death Eater arse. Love, the man responsible for the most wonderful night of your life.' Wow, he certainly is an old softie, isn't he?"

Rosa continued staring at the radio, the flames reflecting off the moisture in her eyes. Smiling, she kissed her fingertips and pressed them against the side of the radio.

"I love you, George Weasley."

"Aww," both Kyon and Deanna squealed in girlish delight.

Lee signed off for _Potterwatch. _A minute later _The Truth Monitors _also went off the air.

They continued sitting around the radio long after the shows ended. Neither Rosa nor Artimus took their eyes off it. O'Bannon figured both were thinking about their British-born past loves. Lord knew many memories of him and Tonks floated around his mind. He sighed. Anger and guilt flowed through him. Right now he wished he could be with his British friends, fighting alongside them, sharing the danger. Being stuck here in the mountains, away from the fighting, sometimes it made him feel like a coward.

_You've done your fair share of fighting. _

Not much, though. Nowhere near the amount as the people from the Guild of the Light or the Order of the Phoenix.

_They have their mission, we have ours, and ours is to keep eighteen children alive._

That made him feel better . . . somewhat.

"What are you looking at?" Rosa asked.

O'Bannon looked up to find Rosa and Jared staring at one another. Slowly, a smirk spread across Jared's face.

"If you and the radio want to be alone, you can always take it back to your tent."

Rosa appeared stunned for a moment. Suddenly she burst out laughing. So did Jared. My God, he actually laughed! At times O'Bannon felt like he'd never hear his friend laugh again.

_Thank you, Fred and George._

He now smiled, embracing this joyous atmosphere.

Wondering how long it would last.

**XXXXX**

Two days later they set up camp for the night near Boone, North Carolina. Once again, they all dined on tree bark. Rosa cooked it over the fire, to make it into something that sort of resembled bacon. Not that it worked. There was a huge, _huge _difference between real bacon and fried tree bark.

_Mmm. Bacon. _O'Bannon closed his eyes and pictured bacon in his mind. Three strips. Nice and crisp, and put on a big ol' hamburger with lettuce, pickles and mustard – golden spicy, not that puke yellow crap! – all wedged between a sesame seed bun. And a big friggin' basket of French Fries next to it. And a huge cup of Dr. Pepper to wash it down. No! Even better. A milk shake. Chocolate.

The fantasy only made his stomach grumble louder. He frowned and stared at his mid-section. How many pounds had he lost over the past seven months? He'd been using a couple extra notches on his belt lately just to make his pants fit comfortably.

_So's everyone else. _Rosa, Jared and Artimus also looked thinner than they had seven months ago. So did the kids, and it wasn't like they had a lot of extra weight to burn off to begin with. Over the past month he noticed many of them growing tired quicker than usual. A few times Holly had fallen asleep in the middle of his bedtime stories. She never did that their first few months on the run.

They desperately needed more food, and they needed it . . .

_Crack!_

His heart leapt into his throat. Excitement tingled through his body.

_Mireet._

He headed in the direction of the sound, followed by Jared, Rosa and Artimus.

Indeed it was Mireet, carrying two big burlap sacks. For a moment, he didn't even care about the food. Mireet's mere presence itself thrilled him to no end, reassuring him she was okay.

"Boy, are you a sight for sore eyes, _Mademoiselle." _He threw his arms around her and hugged her tight. "How are you doing? Everything all right?"

He drew back, hoping to see a smile from Mireet.

He didn't.

Instead he looked into her eyes. He shuddered when he noticed the sorrow in those orbs.

Mireet was bringing them more bad news.

**XXXXX**

The quartet, plus Mireet, slowly walked back to the encampment. O'Bannon had to force each step he took. His heart beat faster the closer they got to camp, the closer they got to the children.

When they emerged from the treeline, he glanced at Rosa and Mireet. Jared and Artimus hung back. He doubted they could do something like this.

_I doubt _I _can do this._

But he had to. He was the leader.

He nodded to the women. Shoulders sagged, they made their way toward the children. Mireet headed toward Maria Rosales, Rosa to Willie Zobrist, and O'Bannon to . . .

"Holly. I need to see you."

Holly got to her feet and bounded over to him, a smile on her face.

O'Bannon drew a staggered breath. "Come with me." He walked toward the girls' tent, glancing back to make sure Holly followed.

"What is it, Coach Jimmy?"

He didn't answer. He didn't say a word until he entered Holly's bedroom and closed the door.

"Coach Jimmy? Are you okay?"

His jaw quivered. He forced it to stop. After a couple deep breaths, he gently laid his hands on Holly's shoulders.

_Oh God, I can't do this._

_You have to._

He closed his eyes for several seconds. When he opened them, he saw Holly staring at him with a perplexed look.

"Holly, sweetheart. I . . . I have . . ." He swallowed. "Mireet just told me there were some attacks and . . . Honey, I'm so sorry. Your . . . your mom and dad were killed."

Holly's little body quaked. Short, high-pitched gasps came from her wide-open mouth. Tears slid down her cheeks.

"No," she squeaked. "No."

By sheer force of will, O'Bannon held his own tears back, barely.

"Honey." His voice cracked. "Honey, I'm so sorry."

He spread out his arms, ready to hug her.

"You lied to me!" Holly screamed and slapped his chest. O'Bannon froze, completely shocked.

"You said Mommy and Daddy would be okay! You said they'd be there when I went home again! You lied to me! I hate you! I HATE YOU!"

O'Bannon couldn't move, stunned by Holly's words. He did nothing as Holly fled from the room, her anguished cries echoing in his ears.

_**TO BE CONTINUED**_

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTES: **_Some of the scenes in this story were directly lifted from Chapter 22 of "Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows." The bit about eating tree bark comes from an article on survival topics dot com._


	18. A Change Of Plan

**CHAPTER 18: A CHANGE OF PLAN**

* * *

Depression weighed on Jimmy O'Bannon's soul. The same held true for everyone else in the group. He glanced over his shoulder as he led them through a wooded area of North Carolina. No one smiled. They just trudged over the hard dirt and through the bare bushes.

He feared this would happen. With so many people being murdered by the Death Eaters, it seemed only a matter of time before one of the children in his group suffered a family tragedy.

It wasn't one, though. It was three.

Willie Zobrist lost both his parents. Maria Rosales' father had been killed.

And then there was Holly.

He spotted her near the middle of the pack. His heart crumbled when he took note of her lowered head and slumped shoulders. More than anything he wanted to hug her, to take away her pain.

But Holly wouldn't allow him anywhere near her.

A lump formed in O'Bannon's throat. He vividly recalled Holly crying and screaming at him two nights ago. _"You lied to me! I hate you!"_

Those words cut him deeper than he thought possible. Holly wasn't his daughter, but had bonded with her more than the other children. He entertained her with his bedtime stories, he saved her life when she'd been poisoned by the setagotha. Now he wondered if she'd ever speak to him again.

He shook his head, cursing himself for ever telling Holly her parents would be all right. He should have known better. How could he give her such assurances during times like these?

The grief Holly, Maria and Willie went through affected the other children, too. They all looked just as depressed. O'Bannon knew they feared their parents could be next.

And Jared . . . all the progress he'd made over the past couple of weeks vanished. His moods fluctuated between sullen and angry. He rarely spoke, and when he did it was usually to complain how no one was stopping the Death Eaters' killing spree.

Anger burned inside O'Bannon. He couldn't believe the Guild of the Light would just sit back and let this slaughter happen. Sure they lost a lot of people during the Battle of Helghorst Island, but they still had members left. Why weren't they fighting the Death Eaters? And what about Harry Potter? Everyone dubbed him The Chosen One, the one who would ultimately defeat Lord Voldemort. Well when the hell was he going to do it? How many more people had to die before Harry did whatever the hell he had to do?

Hardly anyone spoke during dinner that night. A few did sob, namely Willie, Maria and Holly. Rosa went over to hug Holly, while Kyon did the same with Maria and Deanna comforted Willie. After they finished eating, Rosa came over to O'Bannon.

"I tried to get Holly to go over and talk to you, told her she shouldn't be mad at you, but . . ." She sighed. "She's just really angry right now and just wants to project on someone, anyone."

He nodded, lowering his chin to his chest.

"Hey." Rosa gently grasped his shoulder. "She'll get over it. It's like with Jared. It's going to take some time."

"Yeah," he muttered. "In case you haven't noticed, Jared's not doing so hot right now."

"I know." She frowned. "After what happened with Holly and Maria and Willie's parents, it just brought back all his feelings from when his mother died. To be honest, I've thought about Aunt Liana a lot over the last couple of days. Then I start to worry about my parents and Uncle Irving and the rest of the family and . . . I don't want to lose anyone else."

O'Bannon put an arm around Rosa. She leaned against him, her body tense, like she was trying to suppress a crying fit. They stayed like that for several minutes.

The next few days proceeded pretty much the same way. Hiking, Apparating, eating, grieving. Nightmares also cropped up among some of the children. Bad ones. Rosa had been woken one night by the screams of Jillian Cubbage, who dreamt of dark, shadowy figures taking away her parents and her brother. Another night, Holly woke up screaming after her own nightmare. None of the boys had done that. O'Bannon figured they must be having nightmares, but probably chose to keep it to themselves, male pride and all.

The next broadcast of _The Truth Monitors _did nothing to lift their spirits. Two members of the Continental Wizarding Legislature had been found and murdered. Giants raided a small wizarding community in Upstate New York and kidnapped eleven people. God only knew what the giants intended to do with them. A parking garage in Pittsburgh collapsed, killing fifteen Muggles and injuring twenty-two more.

They heard no reports of anyone fighting the Death Eaters.

"Maybe we should get rid of this radio," Artimus uncharacteristically grumbled before heading off for the boys' tent.

"Why not?" Jared scowled at the radio. "All it is is bad news anymore."

O'Bannon felt the urge to scold him for bringing down morale, but didn't see the point. Their morale could not get any lower.

**XXXXX**

Around midnight, O'Bannon's alarm went off. Groaning, he slapped at it until it fell silent, then dragged himself out of bed. He had second watch tonight, spelling Jared. After putting on his coat and shoes and going to the bathroom, he made his way down the hall and into the living room. He stopped halfway to the tent flap when he noticed a figure sitting in one of the armchairs to his left.

"Daedalus?"

"Huh?" The boy's head snapped up. "Oh. Hey, Jimmy."

"What are you doing out here?"

"I, uh, I couldn't sleep."

O'Bannon walked over to Daedalus. "You wanna talk about it?"

The boy's lips tightened. He looked away, casting his gaze to the armrest.

O'Bannon frowned. He wondered if Daedalus had had a nightmare.

_Probably doesn't want to talk about it, being the oldest. Probably feels he has to put on a brave front._

"Daedalus?"

He still didn't respond.

"Look, if something's bothering you, you can tell me. Whatever you say stays between the two of us."

Daedalus drew a long breath. "I'm not sure you wanna hear this."

Sighing, he used his wand to slide over another chair and sat down. "Daedalus, if there is _any _problem with _anyone_ in this group, I wanna know about it."

Daedalus shifted in his chair. His eyes flickered in all directions except O'Bannon's.

"It's just . . . well, some of the kids are scared, you know. They're scared their parents might die like Holly's and Willie's and Maria's."

"Well that's understandable, and I think pretty obvious given the way everyone's been acting over the past week."

"It's not just that, it's . . . it's a lot of the kids feel like the Death Eaters are getting away with everything. They're burning down towns and killing people and nobody's doing anything about it."

O'Bannon nodded. "I know things must look hopeless, but -"

"They want _you_ to do something about it," Daedalus cut him off. "You and Rosa and Jared and Artimus. I mean, you guys fought a setagotha and a giant. And you told us all that stuff you did in England. A lot of the kids think you should be out there fighting Death Eaters, but you're not. Some of them think . . . well . . ."

"Think what?"

Daedalus looked away from O'Bannon. "They think you guys are chicken."

Anger flashed through him. After all he'd done for them, where the hell did they get off thinking he and his friends were cowards?

Disappointment quickly washed over his anger, disappointment that he apparently lost the respect of many of his kids.

"I mean, I don't think that way," Daedalus said quickly. "Neither does Kyon, and a few others. I mean, how can someone who fights a setagotha and a giant be chicken?"

O'Bannon clasped his hands together. "Daedalus. Our first priority is to protect you guys. The rest of the Guild of the Light will fight the Death Eaters when they get regrouped."

"Some of kids don't think that. Some of them think the Guild is finished. And . . . and . . ."

He canted his head. "And what?"

Daedalus' head drooped even lower. "Some of the kids I heard talking, they . . . they don't think we're gonna win this war. Actually, a few of 'em say we've already lost."

O'Bannon slowly sucked down a breath. He wanted to launch into one of his "never give up" speeches, wanted Daedalus to take back a message of hope to the rest of the kids.

He couldn't bring himself to do it. Every statement that entered his mind sounded like empty words. What the hell did he have to base this hope on when they hadn't received a single bit of good news from the front lines in months? If he had to be honest with himself, sometimes _he _even wondered if they could win this war.

"Thanks for telling me this, Daedalus. Why don't you go back to bed, try to get some sleep. I gotta relieve Jared."

Daedalus nodded grudgingly. He pushed himself out of the chair and tromped back to his bedroom.

It took O'Bannon a full minute before he forced himself out of the chair and went outside.

"You're kinda late," Jared noted when the two met up.

"I know. Sorry. Daedalus had some . . . issues. Needed someone to talk to."

Jared just nodded. "No prob. Everything's quiet out here. Night, Jimmy."

He plodded back to the boys' tent.

O'Bannon walked in a slow circle around the encampment. He tried to keep alert for any potential threats, but his mind kept going back to his talk with Daedalus.

A coward. Some of these kids, whom he'd protected for over seven months, thought him and his friends cowards.

_Let them think what they want, so long as we keep them alive._

What actually bothered him more was the fact many of the children had conceded victory to Lord Voldemort. How the hell could anyone do that? Shouldn't children be full of hope? How bad must things be if all hope dies in someone who isn't even old enough to have a wand?

_You just have to keep telling them to have faith._

He shook his head. How could he do that with Death Eaters wantonly killing people?

There would be only one way to convince the children to still believe they can win this war. But he couldn't seriously consider it. Their mission was to protect, not fight. Maybe the kids wanted him and his friends to kill Death Eaters, but he was the leader, and their safety was his responsibility.

_But how good is a leader who doesn't have the respect of the men and women under him?_

As an athlete, he knew the mental aspect of the game could be just as important as the physical one, sometimes more so. You could have the most highly trained soldiers under your command, but how hard would they fight without the proper motivation? These kids may not be warriors, but they had to stay motivated to keep going day in and day out. They had to believe there was light at the end of the tunnel, that they would return home to their families one day.

_He _needed to believe that, and, he suspected, so did Rosa, Jared and Artimus.

He also knew they couldn't be told this. They had to be shown it.

**XXXXX**

O'Bannon waited until everyone emerged from their tents for breakfast before holding up his arms. "I want everyone's attention. Everybody gather round here. I have something to tell you before we eat."

His friends and the children stood in a semi-circle around him.

"I did a lot of thinking last night. I know the last few months have been really hard, and a lot of us have lost people we cared about."

Jared and Holly both lowered their heads.

O'Bannon continued. "I also know it's been hard, for _all of us, _to sit up here in the mountains, feeling safe, while Death Eaters are slaughtering people from one end of the country to the other. Some of you may be mad over this, some of you may feel helpless, some of you may even feel hopeless. I can understand that. Every time we listen to _The Truth Monitors, _it doesn't seem like there's anyone out there actively opposing the Death Eaters, right?"

Many of the children nodded or said, "Yeah."

"Well that's about to change. I've decided that the Death Eaters have been killing people unchecked for too long. Now it's time we hit them back."

_**TO BE CONTINUED**_


	19. Battle Plans

**CHAPTER 19: BATTLE PLANS**

* * *

Wide eyes and gasps of surprise greeted O'Bannon's announcement. Many of the children turned to one another, speaking in excited whispers.

"You're serious about this, Jimmy?" Jared asked.

"Damn serious." He scanned his three friends. A huge smile formed on Jared's face. Artimus appeared stunned. Rosa folded her arms across her chest and nodded.

"But," O'Bannon continued. "We're not gonna go off half-cocked and do this. We're gonna plan this out. And we're not just gonna go to some town and off a couple random Death Eaters. When we hit 'em, we're gonna make damn sure it hurts."

"You have some place specific in mind?" asked Rosa.

"I do." He pulled the magical map from his jacket pocket, knelt down and unfolded it. The others knelt around him.

"Here." He stabbed a finger on an illustration of a town with a snake coiled around it. "Staley's End."

"Why there?" Artimus asked.

"Remember _The Truth Monitors _broadcast a while back? The 'Word of Warning' segment? Mrs. Rollingsworth told everyone to stay away from there because the Death Eaters turned it into a supply base. That's what we're going after."

"I thought you were going to kill Death Eaters." Vance's face scrunched up.

"We can kill a few Death Eaters, yeah. But in war, whether it's a Muggle army or a magical army, they all need supplies to keep 'em going. We destroy those supplies, who knows how many of their operations we can disrupt. Who knows how many lives we save?"

"I like it." Rosa smiled.

"Thanks. And since you're the resident auror-in-training, any ideas on how to do this?"

"First and foremost, we have to get as much information as we can. Where the base is, what's inside it, the number of guards, the length of their watches, total number of Death Eaters in the town, what wards they have in place. It'd be great if we could recruit one of the townspeople to help us."

"I think we can forget about that," Jared said. "In order to do that, we'd have to sneak in there. And the Death Eaters have probably plastered our wanted posters in every wizarding town east of the Mississippi."

"I know." Rosa nodded. "We don't have anything here we can use to disguise ourselves. Even if we could, in these little wizarding towns, everybody knows everybody. Strangers are going to arouse suspicion."

"So we just watch the town from a distance," O'Bannon stated. "A few days should be good enough. When we have enough intelligence on the supply base and the Death Eaters in Staley's End, we make our move. Sound good?"

"Definitely," Rosa stated firmly.

"Uh-huh," Artimus replied.

"Let's do it." Jared's face tightened with resolve.

O'Bannon looked to the children. Several of them nodded and smiled. A few, including Vance, looked disappointed. They probably wanted them to just kill Death Eaters.

His eyes fell on Holly. He wondered, hoped actually, his plan would excite her, that she'd be happy someone would finally make the people who killed her parents pay.

Instead she just hung her head and looked away, her expression unreadable.

"So when do we start?"

Jared's question snapped him out of his reverie. He shifted his gaze from Holly and took a deep breath, putting on his "game face."

"No time like the present, is there?"

**XXXXX**

The first night consisted of probing. They skirted the edges of Staley's End, examining the wards cast around the town. What they found were pretty basic defensive spells, mainly for detecting anyone Apparating into town. The active defensive spells, like ones that blinded or paralyzed intruders, the quartet had learned about during Sixth Year. They also discovered a couple areas around the town where the wards were weak and could be easily defeated.

Two hills sat near the town, one to the west, the other to the north. Both afforded excellent views of Staley's End.

They limited their spying to night time. O'Bannon figured that only made sense since he planned to attack Staley's End at night anyway. Plus, the darkness, and their Camouflage Charms, would make it difficult for the Death Eaters to spot them.

Three nights into their intelligence gathering, O'Bannon and Artimus knelt behind a thicket of trees on the northern hill, codename "Lion." The western hill had been codenamed "Badger." O'Bannon did this because, well, in all the military shows and books he'd seen and read, they codenamed everything. He chose the names based on the animals of the Hogwarts House he'd been sorted into, Gryffindor, and the one the Sorting Hat _considered_ putting him in, Hufflepuff.

One thing he learned, and learned quickly, about this sort of surveillance work . . . it was boring! Mind-numbingly boring. This time of night almost no one ventured outside. _Almost._ One building, a two-story barn-like structure, always had Death Eaters standing outside it. They pegged that as the supply base. No other buildings in Staley's End had guards.

Not that the guards did anything interesting. They stood around, talking to one another, and sometimes passed a flask back and forth. O'Bannon doubted it contained pumpkin juice.

He lowered his spyglass and rubbed his burning eyes. His eyelids felt like someone turned them into lead weights. All he wanted to do was sleep.

_The mission. Think about the mission._

He turned his wand on himself. A jet of ice cold water blasted him in the face. His body stiffened. His eyes went wide.

"Tired?" Artimus whispered to him.

O'Bannon shook his head and wiped his face with his sleeve. "Not anymore. Good thing Rosa suggested this to stay awake. Amazing the little tips you learn when your parents are aurors."

"Yeah." Artimus nodded.

He wiped away the last droplets of cold water from his face and looked down at his spyglass. He had transfigured it from a stick earlier, and even put a charm on it to give it night vision. Though unlike Muggle night vision devices which turned the world a phosphorescent green, the spyglass showed Staley's End as it would appear in daylight.

Despite his feat of transfiguration, he couldn't help but frown.

_We can turn sticks into spyglasses, but we can't conjure up a roast chicken._

The Principal Exceptions to Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration. When he first learned of this world, he never imagined there would be limitations to a wizard's power. But there were. And one of them was you couldn't create food by magic.

Dammit.

_Focus!_

He lifted the spyglass to his right eye. The Death Eaters guarding the supply base chatted with one another. Other than that, the town was . . .

"Check out the tavern," Artimus told him.

O'Bannon swung his spyglass to the next road over. A red, wood paneled structure with a pointed roof came into view. Two Death Eaters stumbled in front of it. Even from this distance he could just hear their boisterous laughter. The two proceeded down the street, unable to walk a straight line. Finally, somehow, they reached a house about two hundred yards from the tavern and staggered inside.

O'Bannon pulled out a notebook and jotted down the time the Death Eaters left the tavern and where they headed.

"Looks like we're getting a nice little pattern here. If they're not on guard duty, they spend the night drinking until they're totally plastered."

"Plastered?" Artimus furrowed his brow.

"Muggle slang for getting drunk."

"Oh."

An hour later another Death Eater stumbled out of tavern. He wandered Staley's End for a half-hour before he entered a house. O'Bannon couldn't help but wonder if that was even the guy's actual home.

"I just can't believe this." Artimus shook his head.

"What?"

"These Death Eaters. I mean, you'd think they'd take guarding a supply base more seriously."

"Be thankful for small miracles. They probably think the war's going so well for them no one's gonna mess with them." A wicked grin crossed O'Bannon's lips. "Boy, are they gonna be in for a surprise."

Artimus exhaled audibly. "You know, I have to admit. Part of me is looking forward to this."

O'Bannon lowered his spyglass and turned to his friend. "Say what?"

"I'm serious." Artimus turned to him, his face a stiff mask of resolve. "It's just . . . ever since Hector was killed, I've been thinking about fighting Death Eaters. Paying them back for what they did."

His head trembled a bit. "He was my brother. He looked out for me, he didn't treat me like a failure. Hector was great guy, and they just killed him. Why should they live when he's dead?"

O'Bannon just stared at him. Never could he remember seeing Artimus so . . . vicious. If anything, he tended to avoid confrontations.

_Well, a dead brother is likely to change your outlook._

He slapped Artimus on the shoulder. "We'll make 'em pay, buddy. For Hector and Mrs. Diaz and Cindy Walker, and everyone else these bastards killed."

Artimus nodded, the severe look still on his face.

O'Bannon turned back to Staley's End. "Hey, Art."

"Yeah?"  
"Hector's not the only one who believed in you. We all do."

"Really?"

"Hell yes," said O'Bannon. "After everything we've been through the last two years, why wouldn't we? You've had our backs every step of the way. You better believe we have faith in you."

Artimus bit his lip and stared at the ground. After several seconds of silence, he asked, "Are you sure _all of you _have faith in me?"

A bewildered look came over O'Bannon's face. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It's just . . . it's Jared."

"What about him?"

"When he said that stuff to me, about not thinking for myself."

"What? That was weeks ago."

"He hasn't apologized for it."

O'Bannon sighed. "C'mon, Art. You know Jared wasn't in his right mind when he said that."

"Maybe." Artimus lowered his gaze for a moment. "But something like that, it had to come from somewhere. He must have thought that for some time. Maybe he thinks that all the time about me. It makes me wonder sometimes if Jared really is my friend."

"Oh come on. Jared not your friend? Are you serious?"

"Well considering what he said, and remember, when I first started hanging with you guys, Jared didn't want anything to do with me because of how the rest of my family acted."

"And he got past it."

"But look how long it took. And what about all the times he makes fun of me?"

"We all rip on one another." Though O'Bannon had to admit, very few of their barbs had ever been aimed Artimus' way. He just didn't have the personality to handle even good-natured ribbing.

He slid closer to his friend. "Art. One of the things I learned since I got involved in this war is that people mourn in different ways. For Jared, it's sometimes lashing out at people around him, because we're here, and the Death Eaters aren't. And I know what he said to you that night was uncalled for. But I also know that Jared is your friend. If you ever doubt that, think of all the times he's been there for you, like back in England when that Chupacabra took a chunk out of your shoulder. Who was right there at your side, talking to you, making sure you hung on until we got you to St. Mungo's?"

Artimus' shoulders slumped. Several seconds passed before he finally nodded.

O'Bannon smiled and slapped him on the arm. He then went back to observing Staley's End.

An hour later a faint _crack _arose from the town.

Both of them trained their spyglasses on the presumed supply base. A third Death Eater stood outside the building, two large floating trunks on either side of him.

The two guards halted their conversation and turned to the newcomer. If the guy was angry about the guards slacking off, he didn't show it.

The three talked for a minute or so before the newcomer entered the building with the trunks. He came out about fifteen minutes later, the trunks following him.

_Crack! _Both the Death Eater and the trunks vanished.

O'Bannon wrote down the incident in his notebook. He then turned to Artimus. "A Death Eater suddenly shows up with two big trunks, goes inside, then comes out. Think maybe he's picking stuff up?"

"Or maybe he's bringing more stuff in there?" Artimus sounded a little hesitant.

"Either way, I think it's safe to say that's where the Death Eaters are storing their supplies."

**XXXXX**

They spent a full week observing Staley's End. Some of their findings astounded them. By their estimate, the town had eight or ten Death Eaters as permanent residents. The two-man guard detail stood watch _the entire night._ Many of the military books O'Bannon read recommended two-hour shifts for sentries. Anything longer and their concentration deteriorated. Those Death Eaters not on guard spent much of the night in the tavern getting hammered. The first one usually didn't leave before midnight, the last one any time between three and four in the morning. The ones who left late looked so far gone a First Year could take them down.

In one of their most dangerous missions, Rosa and Jared snuck into Staley's End and examined the wards around the supply base.

"The wards are a joke," Rosa explained to them back at camp. "My parents have better protective spells around our house. I can break down all those wards in less than a minute."

"I don't get it." Artimus shook his head. "It's like they're inviting someone to attack them." His eyes widened. "You don't think this could be a trap?"

O'Bannon tensed. My God, could Artimus be right? That building had to store a ton of supplies. How could the Death Eaters be so lax guarding it?

"I don't think so." Rosa looked around at them. "Outside of Kennerwhelp, we haven't attacked anything. Hell, we've been trying to _avoid_ the Death Eaters. They'd have no reason to set a trap like that for us."

"What if it's meant for someone else?" asked Artimus. "Someone from the Guild of the Light."

Rosa shook her head. "From everything we've heard, the Guild hasn't done much since the Battle of Helghorst Island. I think the Death Eaters are just overconfident. They probably think no one has the balls to attack them."

O'Bannon bobbed his head from side-to-side. "I agree with Rosa. After beating the Guild and going on this killing frenzy of theirs, they gotta think every witch and wizard in the country is scared to death of them."

"In a lot of cases they're right," Jared chimed in.

He nodded. "So, if you're top dog, no one's challenging you, what do you have to worry about?"

"Us," Rosa said without smiling.

O'Bannon, however, did grin at her. "You better believe it."

"So when do we nail the bastards?" Jared asked sternly.

"Not today. It's been a long week for all of us and we didn't get a lot of sleep. The last thing I want to do is launch an attack when we're physically _and _mentally exhausted. Today we rest up. Tomorrow, we spend the morning traveling, then in the afternoon we go over the plan until it's burned into our brains, we practice on the spells we need to use until we can do them in our sleep. Then at midnight, we Apparate to Staley's End and watch the town for a few hours. When it looks like all the Death Eaters have left the tavern and gone home, we go in. Any questions?"

Rosa, Jared and Artimus all shook their heads.

O'Bannon drew a long breath. Their plan was finalized, and, he felt, it was a good plan.

Now he worried about the thousands of things that could go wrong.

**XXXXX**

The next day they hiked and Apparated until they came to a wooded area they had passed a few days ago, one with a rock outcropping that had a cave. That's where they decided to hide the children during the attack on Staley's End. He also decided Rosa would remain behind to guard them. Should anything happen to him, Jared and Artimus, the kids would at least have one exceptional witch protecting them.

After spending the afternoon going over the plan and practicing all the necessary spells, they ate dinner around the campfire. O'Bannon had been so busy the last few hours he didn't have time to worry about the raid. Now, sitting down with the last of Mireet's canned goods, the dread built up inside him. His mind tormented him with various scenarios. Accidentally setting off one of the security wards. Walking into the supply building and finding dozens of Death Eaters waiting for them. And the worst of all, both Jared and Artimus dead because he made some sort of mistake.

_We'll be fine. We can do this. We have a good plan._

That old Muggle military axiom popped into his mind. _"No plan survives first contact with the enemy."_

After dinner they all moved into the cave. They cast wards around the entrance, then transfigured blankets into sleeping bags.

O'Bannon looked over at Jared and Artimus. "You guys ready?"

Jared nodded, his face a mask of determination. Artimus also nodded, though he failed to hide his worry.

O'Bannon turned to Rosa. Her face stiffened, trying to project an air of assurance. But her eyes told a different story. Worry swirled in her dark orbs. Worry and something else. Desire. A desire to be with the three of them during this raid.

He reached out and grasped both her shoulders. "Remember. If we're not back by dawn, you get the hell out of here."

"You'll be back." She spoke in her firmest tone possible. The corner of her mouth twitched.

They hugged.

"You take care of yourself." Rosa kissed him on the cheek.

"You take care of these kids," O'Bannon told her.

Rosa also hugged and kissed Artimus and Jared. The cousins embraced for well over a minute.

"This is for my mom," Jared whispered to her.

Rosa closed her eyes tight, as if to keep from crying.

The kids wished them luck, and to be careful. Some of the girls looked teary eyed. So did a few of the boys, the younger ones at any rate.

O'Bannon sought out Holly, hoping she would say good-bye to him. His heart fell into his stomach when he noticed her standing toward the back, her head down.

He felt a frown begin to form. He willed it away. This wasn't the time to be depressed. He had a mission to carry out. All his focus had to be on that.

He just wished Holly would say good-bye to him.

O'Bannon turned around, Artimus and Jared ready to follow him.

"Coach Jimmy!"

He spun around. Holly dashed through the crowd of children and ran right into him, throwing her arms around her waist.

"Don't go!" she cried. "Please don't go! I don't want you to die! Don't go, please! I don't hate you. I'm sorry. I'm sorry! Please don't go!"

O'Bannon swallowed twice to force down the lump in his throat. He clenched his teeth, fighting back the tears building in his eyes. He bent down, cupped Holly's cheeks and gently lifted her head. Her face was red and damp.

"I'm sorry, but I have to do this. I'll . . ." He almost said, "I'll be back," but stopped himself. He wouldn't make another promise to her he had no control over. "I'll be careful. And Rosa will be here with you. You know she'll never let anything happen to you."

"I don't want you to go!" Holly trembled as she sobbed.

"I have to." His voice started to crack. "I'll be back as soon as I can."

"No!"

"Come on, honey." Rosa gently pried Holly off him. "They have to go."

"NO! NOOO!" Holly whirled around and wrapped her arms around Rosa. She held her tight, and looked up at the three of them, moisture filling her eyes.

O'Bannon nodded to Rosa, not trusting his voice. With one last, heartbreaking look at Holly, he turned and headed out of the cave, Jared and Artimus behind him. Once they stepped outside, they drew their wands. O'Bannon sucked down a breath of cold air. He closed his eyes, trying to purge his mind of that emotional farewell with Holly.

_The mission. Everything is about the mission._

He opened his eyes and turned to Jared and Artimus. "Let's do this."

_**TO BE CONTINUED**_


	20. Striking Back

**CHAPTER 20: STRIKING BACK**

* * *

From Badger Hill, O'Bannon spied two drunken Death Eaters stagger out of the Staley's End tavern. They stumbled down the street, and practically fell through the doorway of a house.

_That's four down._ That left them with anywhere from two to four Death Eaters in the tavern. The remaining two stood in front of the supply base, chatting casually.

None of these assholes looked ready for an attack.

_Then why am I so nervous?_

His mind kept flashing back to the Longathian Tunnel Affair two years ago. All he and his friends had to do was fly to England, enter Hogwarts via one of the secret passages and give a message to Headmaster Dumbledore. The mission couldn't have been any easier. Yet they encountered one obstacle after another, to the point where the American Death Eaters and their dark creatures almost entered England to bolster Lord Voldemort's ranks.

What problems would crop up on this mission? Could they overcome them, or would they fail?

_Think positive. Negative thoughts breed negative actions._

He tried to assure himself they had much in their favor. They had two years of combat experience under their belts. They had scouted the enemy well. They knew their numbers, their behavior, their security set-up. O'Bannon tried to comfort himself with a passage he'd read in Sun Tzu's _The Art of War_.

"_If you know the enemy and know yourself, you need not fear the result of a hundred battles."_

He knew the enemy. They were drunk, lazy and blinded by their sense of superiority.

_Now what about myself?_

Right now, he was worried, scared, and a little pessimistic.

The right ingredients for defeat.

O'Bannon closed his eyes. He pushed those negative thoughts from his mind. He wouldn't be doing this if he didn't think they could succeed.

_We _will _succeed._ He glanced at Jared and Artimus, who lay on either side of him behind a large bush. He'd known these two for nine years. They were more than friends. They were brothers. Comrades. He would trust either one of them with his life.

Could any of those Death Eaters say the same about each other? They seemed to treat this garrison duty as a vacation. They acted like the war was over. Therefore, they had no motivation to fight.

He, Jared and Artimus had plenty of motivation to fight.

O'Bannon breathed deep, feeling his confidence soar.

Shortly before four, another Death Eater left the tavern on wobbly legs and needed fifteen minutes, and a bout of throwing up, to finally make it to his place.

"There should be one more Death Eater in there." Artimus nodded toward the tavern.

"Yeah." Jared turned to him. "But it's after four. We have, what, two, two-and-a-half hours before the sun comes up."

O'Bannon worked his jaw back and forth. "You're right. We gotta go now. Hopefully that last scumbag is sleeping it off in the tavern." _Hopefully. _He hated to rely on wishful thinking.

They pushed themselves to their feet. Jared reached over and slapped Artimus on the shoulder.

"Hey, man. For Hector." He held up his hand.

Artimus' eyes flickered from Jared's face to his raised hand. He flashed a brief smile. "For Hector . . . and your mom."

The two clasped hands.

O'Bannon grinned, hoping this meant any ill-feelings between the two had been put to rest.

The trio dashed down the hill, their dark coats, gloves and pants blending in with the night. Borrowing a tactic he'd seen in action movies, O'Bannon had smeared mud on his face to darken it, too. Jared and Artimus imitated him.

When they reached the northwestern edge of Staley's End, where the wards were the weakest, O'Bannon slowly waved his wand and uttered several incantations. An arch of sparkling of purple and yellow formed, which he, Jared and Artimus went through. More wand waving and incantations restored the wards to normal. There was nothing to indicate he had tripped any security charms. He breathed a sigh of relief.

_That's one hurdle down._

The trio proceeded down the street, hugging the walls of the buildings. O'Bannon scanned their surroundings. No one was on the street, and no lights burned in any window. He prayed it stayed that way.

He peered around the corner of a house at the intersection, wand at the ready. The dirt road was empty. He waved Jared and Artimus forward. They headed down the street, turned at another intersection, then moved at a crouch between two houses.

And there it was before them, the rear of the supply base.

His heart beat faster. Nervousness and anticipation churned inside him.

_This is it._

He raised his wand and scanned the wards. There were some basic protective spells. He easily neutralized them, pointed at Jared, then to the building. Jared nodded and disappeared around the left side of the building. O'Bannon bent at the waist and crept along the right side, Artimus behind him. He tried to steady his breathing. His heart pounded.

_Calm down. Calm down._

They were fifty feet from the corner of the building.

Forty feet.

Thirty feet.

He could hear the Death Eaters talking.

"Where did you get this stuff from?"

O'Bannon froze. _Oh my God. _That was a woman's voice!

"Georgia swamps. Some of the guys said they're the best."

"Mmm, I believe it."

O'Bannon's jaw clenched. _Why does it have to be a woman?_ He'd been brought up to never raise a hand in anger at a woman. Okay, during his hockey days at Salem he had thrown his fair share of bodychecks against female players, though he never plowed into them as hard as he did the guys. But those games weren't a matter of life and death. Here . . .

_It's war. She's a Death Eater. She made her choice._

He gripped his wand tighter, fighting to bury his damn chivalrous streak and do what needed to be done.

He edged closer to the corner. A pungent stench filled his nostrils. His face crinkled when he recognized the odor, having smelled it a few times coming from Ovenderburg's seedy section.

Toadstools! The Death Eaters were smoking toadstools.

Just like the Muggle World, the Wizarding World also had its problems with drugs. Smoking Toadstools was equivalent to smoking marijuana in the Muggle World, only toadstools had more of a kick. Or so he heard. He never had any desire to fry his brains on either one.

O'Bannon slid along the wall. He clenched his jaw, trying not to cough on the stench of burning toadstools.

Ten feet away.

_Almost there._

Five feet.

_Why does it have to be a woman?_

He held his breath as he reached the edge of the building. Ever so slowly, he peered around the corner.

The Death Eaters stood less than seven feet from him. They looked at each other, their heads surrounded by a cloud of smoke. The woman laughed while the man ran a hand up her torso.

"You like when I do that?" He asked in a way more creepy than romantic.

"I'm so far gone you can do _anything you want_ to me." She let out a piercing cackle.

O'Bannon took a slow breath. He felt the wafting smoke sting his lungs. A cough built up inside him. He wouldn't be able to suppress it much longer.

_Dammit, now! While they're distracted._

He swung into the open.

"_Ebulus Suffoco!"_

A clear undulating bubble formed over the female Death Eater's head, not unlike a Bubble-Head Charm. Only this one wrapped tightly around her face and neck. Her hood slipped off her head, revealing blond hair tied in a tight bun. She stumbled back, her hands flailing at her face. The male Death Eater stared at her incredulously, stunned into inaction.

Jared jumped out from behind the other side of the building.

"_Ebulus Suffoco!"_

A similar Choking Bubble Curse formed around the other Death Eater's head. His hands went to his throat.

The woman collapsed on her knees. She clawed at the bubble surrounding her head to no avail.

O'Bannon kept his wand on her. His neck muscles tightened when he saw her face.

The woman was young, probably in her early twenties. Beautiful as well, with clear, angular features, a graceful curve to her neck, and intense blue eyes.

So beautiful . . . and he was killing her!

_She's a Death Eater!_

The woman frantically pawed at her robes until her right hand disappeared inside them.

"Art!"

Seconds later she produced a wand.

"_Expelliarmus!"_ Artimus blurted.

The wand flew from the Death Eater's hand.

Her partner also pulled out his wand. Artimus easily disarmed him, too.

The woman fell on her side, convulsing. She stared at him, mouth open, gasping for air that wouldn't come.

O'Bannon fought to keep his face stiff. He couldn't help but swallow when she stretched out her hand, as if begging him for help.

And her eyes. He shivered when he saw the fear blazing in them. Fear and pleading.

Part of him felt compelled to remove the curse.

_How many people did she do stuff like this to?_

_She'd do it to you if she had the chance._

Her eyes widened, blazing even brighter. Fear turned to abject terror, and realization. Realization she was going to die.

Her arm lowered. The life faded from her eyes.

Faded . . . Faded.

She rolled on her back, wide eyes gazing blankly at the night sky.

O'Bannon lowered her wand. A filthy feeling oozed through his insides.

_I just killed a woman._

_You killed a Death Eater, in a war. How can you feel bad about that?_

_I killed a woman._

_Think about all the people she killed. All the people her scumbag friends killed. Hector. Mrs. Diaz. Cindy. The Pinders. Mr._ _Tonks. Holly's parents._

"Jimmy!"

Jared's harsh whisper snapped him back to the present. His friend looked at him expectantly.

O'Bannon shook his head, clearing his mind. "Yeah. Right. Art, you get the guy. I'll get . . . her. Jared, stand guard."

He opened the double doors to the building, then levitated the female Death Eater inside and set her on the floor. Artimus did the same with the man. Then they entered the building and closed the doors.

"_Lumos!"_

The tip of O'Bannon's wand lit up. He gazed around the building.

"Holy crap." His jaw hung open.

Shelves rose from the floor to the ceiling, filled with all manner of items. He and Artimus walked down the aisles, mentally inventorying everything. Brooms, dozens of them. Slender pine boxes that had to contain wands. Dozens of them, too. Jars full of all manner of powders, liquids, animal parts, leaves and roots. All ingredients for various potions. Other jars contained fully brewed potions. Polyjuice Potion, Veritaserum, Blood Replenishing Potion, Healing Paste.

He also spotted stacks of cauldrons, piles of robes, maps, books on potion making and transfiguration, shackles, cameras, lockboxes marked as containing gold or silver or jade pieces, crates of food, everything from fruits and vegetables to meat packed in Never-Melt Ice, even an old-fashioned printing press.

"Man," Artimus said breathlessly. "You could probably supply all the Death Eaters on the East Coast with what's in here."

"Yeah. Too bad they assigned a bunch of idiots to guard it."

O'Bannon unslung his backpack. "C'mon, let's fill 'er up. Food and potions."

"Can we take a couple wands?" asked Artimus. "Just in case. I mean, what if something happens to ours?"

"Good thinking." O'Bannon nodded. "Do it."

Artimus smiled wide.

The pair went to work filling their knapsacks. Half their take was food. The rest went to the spare wands and potions, mostly of the medicinal variety. O'Bannon did grab a big jug of Polyjuice Potion, remembering how Rosa said they really had no way to disguise themselves.

_You never know when it might come in handy._

"Jimmy. Look at this."

He strode over to Artimus. "What?"

His friend held up a jar filled with what looked like yellow and green confetti.

"What's that?" O'Bannon asked.

"Shredded salamander skin. We can use this."

"How?"

"Remember Potions Class?"

O'Bannon frowned. "Remember how Potions was my worst subject?"

"Oh yeah. Sorry. But, I mean, shredded salamander skin is highly flammable."

"Lemme guess. Spread it around the room and really get the fire going."

Artimus nodded vigorously.

O'Bannon smiled and gave him a friendly punch to the shoulder. "Now do you see why we believe in you?"  
Another huge grin lit up Artimus' face.

Once they filled their backpacks to the hilt, they each took a jar of shredded salamander skin and dumped them on the shelves and floor. The pair then headed for the exit and threw open the doors. Jared turned around to greet them.

"Hey," he said. "I hope you don't mind. I did a little redecorating while you were inside."

Jared pointed to a couple nearby buildings. O'Bannon's lips pulled back in a toothy grin as he scanned the sparkling yellow graffiti.

THE GUILD OF THE LIGHT LIVES.

YOU-KNOW-WHO SUCKS.

DEATH TO DEATH EATERS.

"I like it."

Jared nodded triumphantly. "So? We ready to torch this place?

"Abso-friggin-lutley."

O'Bannon spun around, wand at the ready.

Something moved to his left. Something large and dark.

A person stumbled along the street, a person wearing dark robes and a hood.

A Death Eater!

"Hey!" he barked. "Whaaas . . . whaaas." The man's speech slurred. "Hey! HEY!"

The Death Eater fumbled through his robes.

"_Stupefy!"_

Stunning Spells flashed from O'Bannon's, Jared's and Artimus' wands. All three bolts struck the Death Eater. He flew off his feet, twisted in the air, and slammed face first into the ground.

"Dammit!" O'Bannon scowled, his head snapping back and forth, scanning the windows of the nearby buildings.

A light appeared in one of them.

"Aw crap!" Jared exclaimed. "That probably woke up half the damn town."

"Come on! We gotta torch this place and go."

O'Bannon leveled his wand at the entrance, as did Jared and Artimus. Fireballs shot from their wands and streaked inside the supply building.

Flames gushed out the door. The three of them jumped back. It looked like the shredded salamander skin really helped get this fire going. He'd originally wanted to hang around to make sure the supply base was completely gutted. Now they couldn't afford to do that. One Floo call and Staley's End would be swarming with Death Eaters.

"Go! Go! Go!" He pounded down the dirt road, Jared and Artimus on his heels. His eyes darted back and forth, looking for any threats.

Lights appeared in more windows. He spotted human-looking shadows in one or two of them. He willed his legs to pump faster.

A door on his right opened. A robed figure staggered out, wand in hand.

"_Stupefy!"_

Jared's Stunning Spell nailed the man in the chest. He crumpled on the stairs.

O'Bannon's breathing quickened. His lungs burned. He stared down the dirt road. They had to be about four hundred yards from the outskirts of town, outside the anti-Apparation barrier.

"C'mon, Art!" Jared yelled. He grabbed Artimus' arm, pulling him along. Art desperately sucked down air, and looked on the verge of collapse.

"Just a little further, man!" Jared urged him. "You can do it! You _have _to do it!"

Still looking over his shoulder, O'Bannon gazed past Jared and Artimus. A tongue of flames sprouted over the rooftops of Staley's End. It appeared the supply building was burning nice and . . .

A bolt whizzed over their heads.

O'Bannon stared down the street. A dark-robed silhouette stood near one of the buildings. He cast another curse that missed them by a good six feet.

The Death Eater started after them, nearly tripping and falling several times. He had to be bombed out of his mind.

O'Bannon's lungs felt ready to burst as they neared the outskirts of town.

"Jared! Art! Cover me!"

Artimus erected a Shield Charm while he worked to create a hole through the wards.

One of the Death Eater's curses struck Artimus' shield. Jared reached around the edge of the shield and cast a Stunning Spell. He missed. The Death Eater threw another curse, missing badly. Jared cast another Stunning Spell. This one clipped the Death Eater in the shoulder. He spun and fell, moving listlessly.

"I got it!" O'Bannon yelled, a colorful arch forming in front of them. "Go! Go!"

He waved Jared and Artimus through, then followed them.

_Crack! Crack!_

Two Death Eaters appeared six feet away.

"_Constrictus!" _Jared snapped his wand up.

Vines burst from the ground and wrapped around the Death Eaters. They struggled furiously.

More cracks sounded around the outskirts of Staley's End. More Death Eaters.

O'Bannon looked at his two friends. "Now!"

He closed his eyes. Three _cracks _drilled into his ears. His body flew off in all directions.

Seconds later he felt whole again. He opened his eyes. Relief flooded through him when he saw Jared and Artimus.

The town of Staley's End had been replaced by woods, and a rock outcropping with a cave.

A young woman stood at the cave entrance, wand raised.

"Jimmy? Jared? Artimus?"

"It's us, cuz." Jared waved. "We're alive."

Rosa launched into a series of security questions only they would know. After they answered satisfactorily, she rushed over, hugging all three of them and kissing them on the cheek.

"Thank Merlin you're all right. Did you do it?"

O'Bannon nodded for her, Jared and Artimus to follow him into the cave. When he entered, he noticed most of the children were up, including . . .

"Coach Jimmy!"

Holly practically crashed into him, hugging him as tight as possible. He hugged her back and placed a gentle kiss on the top of her head.

"So how did it go?" Daedalus Drunkenmiller asked. Kyon Yoon-Ku sidled up next to him and took hold of one of his sleeves, an expectant look on her face.

O'Bannon nodded, a smile growing on his face. "That sucker's burning as we speak. We did it."

Cheers thundered through the cave. The children jumped, clapped and hugged one another.

"YEAH!" Jared gave Artimus a high-five that nearly broke the guy's hand.

Rosa jumped into O'Bannon's arms. He cheered and whirled her completely around, catching a glimpse of Kyon and Daedalus in a tight embrace.

"We showed those poopheads!" Willie Zobrist hollered. "We showed 'em!"

O'Bannon let Rosa go and looked around the cave, his chest swelling. He soaked in the cheering and jumping and hugging. For the first time in several weeks, he saw joy in the faces of these children.

He also saw something else. Something that had been absent for so long.

Hope.

_**TO BE CONTINUED**_


	21. State Of Distress

**CHAPTER 21: STATE OF DISTRESS**

* * *

"I cannot believe you took such a risk." Mireet Miradeaux glared at Jimmy O'Bannon from across the living room of the tent. "Did you even think about the children's safety before you decided to go and burn down that supply base?"

"Of course I did," Jimmy replied deliberately, harshly.

Mireet exhaled slowly through her nose. Always she had looked forward to dropping off supplies to Jimmy and his group, having the chance to see him, to talk to him, to know he was still alive.

Now, however, anger flared inside her when she stared at his round, handsome face. "Really?" She folded her arms.

"Yes, really," he snapped. "We spent over a week preparing for that raid. Gathering intelligence, practicing spells, memorizing the plan until we could do it in our sleep."

"And what about the consequences of your raid? Did you consider that? Olin Grath, the head Death Eater in America himself, came to Staley's End after your raid. Once he executed all the Death Eaters stationed there, he increased the reward for all of you to ten thousand gold pieces . . . _each._ Now every common criminal, every pathetic witch and wizard who wishes to curry favor with the Death Eaters, is searching for you."

"They've been searching for us for months, Mireet."

"_Oui. _But now there are more searching for you."

"Okay, you're right. But after hiding from these bastards for seven months, they were bound to send more people into the Appalachians sooner or later. And what about the reports on _The Truth Monitors? _After our attack on Staley's End, ordinary wizards and witches have been coming out of the woodwork, deciding they've had enough of the Death Eaters murdering people. They're standing up to them now. How many of those slimebuckets have been found dead across the country over the past two weeks? Dozens? A hundred? We've inspired people to fight back."

"Your job is not to inspire people to fight. It is to keep these children safe."

"Is that you talking, or are you just delivering a message from the Guild?"

"Both."

Deep lines etched in Jimmy's face. "Well be sure to tell the Guild that if they were actually out there killing Death Eaters we wouldn't have even considered attacking Staley's End in the first place."

"You know the Guild of the Light has had to rebuild its forces after the Battle of Helghorst Island."

"They could have been doing _something_ during that time. An ambush here or there. Just something to let everyone know that someone was out there fighting these S.O.B.s. Dammit, some of these kids have lost family. Some of them didn't even believe we could win this war. They completely lost hope. For the sake of everyone's morale, I had to do something."

"And you thought destroying one of the Death Eaters' biggest supply bases on the Eastern Seaboard, something that would certainly draw attention to you, was the right thing to do?"

Jimmy shrugged. "Hey. Nearly three-quarters of their supplies got burned up. Next time you run into someone from the Guild, tell 'em a thank you would be nice."

"I would not hold out hope for that."

Jimmy snorted. "If things had been different, we wouldn't have done this. But morale was in the toilet, Mireet. You were an athlete. You know how crucial morale is to a team."

"You cannot compare what you are going through now to what happens on a Quidditch field or a hockey rink. You are protecting these children from You-Know-Who's followers. Their lives are more important than their feelings."

Jimmy's eyes filled with fire. "That's easy for you to say. You're not around these kids twenty-four seven like we are. You're not the one caring for them and comforting them and looking out for them. We are!"

She froze. The words stabbed through her heart. She couldn't believe he'd said that. She didn't want to believe Jimmy O'Bannon, one of her dearest friends in the world, could have said that to her.

Her knees buckled. Her cheeks twitched as tears stung her eyes. A maelstrom of emotions battered her soul. Hurt. Anger. Shock. Outrage.

She took slow, deep breaths, trying to regain her composure. Her face stiffened as she stepped toward him. She tried to show her anger, and tried not to cry, all at the same time.

"That is true. I am not here all the time." Mireet spoke in a forceful, measured tone, fighting the entire time to keep her voice from cracking. "That is because I am risking my life maintaining communication between here and Europe, and making sure the Rollingsworths get the latest recording of _Potterwatch _from England, and making sure that you and the children have enough food to keep from starving. So forgive me for not being here all the time to help you."

She stomped past Jimmy and swatted the tent flap open. Her throat tightened. Tears blurred her vision.

"Mireet?" She heard Rosa call out. "Mireet, are you okay?"

She didn't answer. She couldn't. If she uttered one word she knew she'd break down. She wouldn't do that. Not here. Not in front of _him._

"Mireet."

She slowed her pace when she heard Jimmy's voice. She resisted the urge to turn around. There was no way she'd be able to hold it together if she looked at him, not with his hurtful words so fresh in her mind.

"Mireet, please."

She kept walking, ignoring his pleas. She didn't stop until she walked outside the wards. Damp eyelashes clung together as she closed her eyes and vanished with a _crack!_

It took a few Apparations to get from Vermont to the alley two blocks from her apartment in Washington D.C. She clenched her teeth, pushing down the sobs building in her throat, trying to remember her safety precautions, always sweeping the street with her eyes, wary of suspicious-looking people, making sure she gripped her wand, ready to pull it from her trenchcoat at a moment's notice. But her vision was so blurry she could barely make out any distinct shapes.

_I will not cry. Not over him_

_How could he say that to me?_

She pushed open the double glass doors to her apartment building.

_I will not cry._

Her footfalls grew louder as she hurriedly took the stairs.

_Damn you, Jimmy O'Bannon. I've done so much for you._

Mireet pulled out her wand and unlocked the door to her apartment. She sniffled as she shoved open the door, stomped inside and slashed her wand in front of her, slamming the door shut. She didn't bother turning on the lights. Her pace quickened as she crossed the darkened living room, making straight for her bedroom.

She fell on her bed, her body quaking as she sobbed.

_Damn you, Jimmy. Damn you._

Why couldn't she ever let go of him? It had been three years since their time at Hogwarts. She had decided then to ignore her heart and not pursue a more serious relationship with him. She hadn't fully recovered from the broken heart Marc-Andre gave her. If she became involved with Jimmy, knowing he would return to America at the end of the school year, her heart would shatter. She could not bear that sort of pain again.

But her heart did break when they parted ways. The regret built and built until it crushed her.

And no matter how much time passed, Jimmy never strayed far from her thoughts.

Her feelings only intensified when she came to America and started working with him and his friends. She thought maybe there could be a chance, but between the war and his failed relationship with that girl Talia Laribee, how could they begin anything serious?

It didn't stop her from loving him. She doubted she'd ever stop loving him, even if she couldn't show it.

_And look where it's gotten me._

Mireet cried louder. Once again, Jimmy broke her heart. The last time it had been unintentional. This time . . .

She kept crying, wanting to hate him, wanting to forgive him, wanting to . . .

She didn't know what she really wanted, except to cry herself to sleep.

**XXXXX**

Mireet couldn't count how many times she looked at herself in the bathroom mirror the next morning. No matter how many styling and beauty charms she cast on herself, nothing could hide the sadness in her eyes, or on her entire face, for that matter. Sighing, she trudged out of the bathroom and plopped down at her small kitchenette table, summoning a bowl of fruit and a mug of coffee. She stared at her breakfast more than ate it. A lead weight filled her stomach. She tried to blame it on her breakdown last night following her argument with Jimmy. But she knew that wasn't the only reason. Her appetite had been off the past couple of months, ever since the Death Eaters started their rampage. How the hell could she eat? So many people had been murdered in America, in Britain, in Russia, in so many other countries. Even in France! Mainly members of _Force d'Vigilant, _as the wizarding government would not officially oppose Lord Voldemort. But her parents and her older sister Monique were part of _Force d'Vigilant._ What if the Death Eaters killed them?

She also couldn't help but think, _What if the Death Eaters kill me?_

So far You-Know-Who's followers in America had respected the diplomatic status of the embassies of those countries not actively fighting him. That did not stop the madman's followers from spying on embassies all over Washington. What if today was the day they decided to ignore diplomatic status and attack? She shivered at the thought of stepping outside her apartment building and being struck down by a Killing Curse.

Her chest tightened. Dead at twenty. She would never have a chance to marry, to have children. She would never have the opportunity to tell Jimmy her true feelings for him.

_What are my feelings for him? After what he said . . ._

She sat at the table for fifteen minutes before shoving away her half-eaten fruit bowl and marching toward the door.

Mireet encountered a few other people in the hallways, all leaving for work. Some Muggles, some witches and wizards who worked at the various embassies throughout Washington. Given the current climate in Wizarding America, none of them wanted to be the only magical person in a particular apartment complex. That would just make them a more tempting target for some Death Eater with – _what was that phrase Jimmy said once – _a wild hair up his ass.

_Jimmy._

She lowered her head as she walked to the alley near her apartment building, looked around to make sure no one saw her, and Apparated to the French Embassy.

Mireet walked past the small maze of desks until she got to hers, so immaculate with quills lined up properly, parchment stacked neatly, and personal photos angled to face her. She sat at her desk and just stared at the dark, finely polished wood. With the American wizarding government in shambles, there wasn't much for her or the rest of the embassy staff to do. Once in a great while they did have to prepare for a meeting with the cretin Lord Voldemort appointed as the British Wizarding Ambassador to the United States, usually just to reassure him they were not in contact with anyone from the US Department of Magic. All American wizarding government officials had been deemed enemies of the Voldemort regime.

She cringed, thinking of Ambassador Truskholt, a pot-bellied, middle-aged man with black receding hair and dark penetrating eyes. Eyes that seemed to crawl over her skin whenever he looked at her.

Her stomach twisted painfully. She didn't want to imagine the thoughts Truskholt had about her.

Mireet closed her eyes, trying to remember the way Jimmy stared at her. With admiration, respect. She liked the way he gazed at her.

_Or I did. Or do I still?_

_Jimmy._

She continued sitting in her chair, many times staring at the photo of her parents, the one she charmed to have them pointing emphatically if a magically coded message came through the fax on the Muggle side of the embassy.

None came.

The day passed very slowly. Mireet spent most of it at her desk. Sometimes she put her hand over her chest, feeling the teardrop-shaped pendant under her robes given to her by the Guild of the Light. She half-expected it to suddenly grow cold against her skin. If that happened . . .

The rest of the day she spent worrying about her family, her friends, herself, the world in general. She also thought of Jimmy and what he said to her last night. She restrained herself from throwing something or crying in front of her co-workers. She desperately wished she could see him right now . . . and lash out. Demand to know where he got the nerve to say those things. Call him every name she could think of, starting with, "ungrateful bastard."

And hoping he would get on his knees and beg for her forgiveness.

When four o'clock came, many of the embassy staffers headed for the exit. Mireet joined them.

"Another busy day serving the wizards and witches of France, eh, _Mademoiselle _Miradeaux?"

She sighed in annoyance at the voice. Frowning, she turned to see a portly, balding man with an egg-shaped head waddling beside her.

"_Oui, Monsieur _Giuemone."

Gerard Giuemone, the head of the embassy's Office for International Magical Travel, smiled at her. Actually, it was more of a leer than a smile. He moaned before speaking. "Ah, and to think of all the days I complained about how busy my job could be. Now I yearn to be busy again. It does make the day pass quicker, does it not?"

Mireet just nodded, wishing the old letch would go away.

"But alas, who wants to come to America when this country is in such chaos?"

"It cannot last forever," she replied.

"You are correct about that, my dear. It cannot." He patted her on the shoulder.

Mireet grimaced and picked up her pace.

"So, would you like an escort home tonight, _Mademoiselle _Miradeaux? The streets of Washington are not safe, I'm sure you are aware. The American Death Eaters are keeping a close eye on the embassies. Even some Muggle areas of the city can be dangerous. Why, I will even offer to cook you dinner." The look in his eyes said he wanted to do much more than make her dinner.

Nausea burned in her stomach. Merlin's beard, the man was old enough to be her grandfather.

"I can take care of myself, thank you very much." She nearly broke into a run to get out the door and away from Giuemone. She gritted her teeth, anger building up. What did she have to do? Hex the man to make him to realize she wanted nothing to do with him . . . _especially _nothing of a sexual nature?

A memory flashed in her head. The Yule Ball three years ago at Hogwarts. Jimmy approaching her in his dress robes – Merlin, he looked so handsome. Her chest heaved when she remembered how he took her hand and kissed it. So affectionate, so genuine. He could be so sweet.

_Unless he is accusing me of not helping him._

**XXXXX**

April turned into a month of anxiety for Mireet. She took more notice of the Muggle homeless people across the street from the embassy. Some of them seemed to be watching everything intently. When she brought this to the Guild's attention, they eventually learned the Death Eaters had used the Imperius Curse on many Muggle homeless, using them as unwitting spies. It made sense, she thought. Most people, Muggle and magical alike, tried to pretend those unfortunates didn't even exist. And You-Know-Who's followers certainly had no qualms about casting Unforgivable Curses on unsuspecting Muggles. She worried what those homeless might be telling the Death Eaters about her. She thought she was being careful, making sure no one followed her when she had to meet her Guild contacts. But no one was perfect. One mistake, one moment of inattention, could mean death.

In spite of the new wave of resistance against You-Know-Who's forces, most of the news from the Guild was bad. She learned _The Truth Monitors _would be off the air for a while after the Rollingsworths' wards picked up spells trying to pinpoint their location. That disheartened her. So many people depended on that show for hope, and an occasional laugh, which could be so hard to come by in these dark times.

Even worse, the Guild had problems acquiring food and other supplies for Jimmy's group. Many of the witches and wizards in the supply network were either on the run from Death Eaters or couldn't shake the ones watching them.

Mireet sat at her kitchenette table, sipping her coffee, staring at her meager, untouched dinner of bread and cheese, her appetite pretty much gone. How long had it been since her last visit to Jimmy's group? Almost four weeks. She'd never gone this long without bringing them food.

She propped her elbows on the table, pressing her face into her hands. What were they eating now? She knew they had resorted to hunting, even eating tree bark, when the food she'd brought them ran low. Did they have enough to eat? Were the children starving?

She wished the Guild would gather the food so she could deliver it to Jimmy . . . and talk to him. Not a day had passed, not even an hour had passed, when she did not think about their argument. She had pictured their next meeting in her mind so many times, in which she expressed her outrage, told him to think before he opened his mouth, and let him see how much he hurt her.

And maybe, just maybe, reconciling.

_What if that never happens?_ What if something happened to Jimmy? To her? After everything they'd been through, how could their last meeting be one of tears and hurtful words?

She slouched in her chair, wishing the Guild would hurry up with that food.

An ice cold sensation stung her chest.

Mireet bolted out of her chair, mouth agape. She reached into her collar and yanked out the pendant, holding it up to her face.

"Merlin's beard." Her hand trembled.

The teardrop pendant, which had always been clear, now had a swirling black mass inside it. Within moments it took shape, one of a spectral black dog.

The Grim, the omen of death in the Wizarding World.

Or in this case, the code that someone connected to her work with the Guild and _Force d'Vigilant _had died.

She gasped when four sets of initials floated through the pendant. Tears stung her eyes.

_You have no time to mourn. You must move._

Taking a couple deep breaths, Mireet dropped the pendant down into her robes and pulled out her wand. She cast a Summoning Charm. Seconds later a black duffel bag shot out of her bedroom. She snatched it out of the air, slung it over her shoulder and headed for the door. She thanked Merlin for the late Liana Diaz's advice to her, to always keep an emergency bag of clothing, food and currency packed in case she had to leave in a hurry.

Wand in hand, she opened the door a crack and peered into the hallway. No one was around. She exited her apartment, walking quickly, her head constantly rotating, alert for any threats. Mireet tried to ignore her pounding heart, tendrils of fear slithering through her insides. She couldn't afford to let fear overwhelm her. Not if she wanted get out of here alive.

She took the back stairs, stopping at the landing near the glass door that led to the apartment complex's parking lot. Stepping into the corner away from the door, she pulled out the magical map. Within seconds she found the location for Jimmy and his group. The mountains just outside of Mercersburg, Pennsylvania. It should only take two Apparations to get there. Then she'd be safe, relatively speaking.

She scanned the darkened parking lot. It was deserted. None of the wards she and the other magical residents set up around the apartment complex had gone off.

Holding her breath, she shoved the door all the way open and hurried outside. Her gaze immediately went to the row of small hedges bordering the parking lot and the neighboring property. The hedges also represented the edge of the Anti-Apparation barrier. Once she got past that she could . . .

Two dark shapes appeared from behind the corner of the apartment building. Both wore long, tattered coats and had scruffy beards.

Muggle homeless.

Her legs almost locked up. Her eyes never left them. She knew the Death Eaters had Imperiused several Muggle homeless in Washington to spy for them. Could these be two of them?

Her question was answered when they reached into their coats and pulled out two dark, stubby objects. She recognized them from her Muggle Studies classes at Beauxbatons.

Guns.

Both homeless raised their arms.

"_Protego!"_

Loud cracks erupted from the guns. The projectiles thudded against her shield. She ducked behind the rear of a car, dispersing her shield. The two Muggles marched toward her, their movements sharp, precise, controlled.

"_Stupefy! Stupefy!"_

Red bolts struck both Muggles. They both spun and fell to the ground.

Mireet bolted from behind the car, constantly scanning around her. Fear welled up inside her. She begged her legs to carry her faster. She had to get away from here.

She vaulted over the hedges. Relief cut through her fear. All she had to do was Apparate and . . .

"Don't move!"

She froze, a sob almost bursting from her throat.

Three figures in dark robes emerged from behind some nearby trees, all with wands pointed at her.

_No. No. Jimmy._

"Going somewhere, _Mademoiselle_?" hissed the Death Eater in the middle.

"She's a cutie," said another Death Eater. "We can have some fun with her before we off her. Hell, we can still have fun with her _after _we off her."

"You're a sick man, Leneher," said the third Death Eater. "But, if that's what you're into, be my guest. First, let's see what this blood traitor whore knows."

Mireet's breathing quickened as the Death Eaters approached. Fear turned her insides to ice. Her mind tortured her with images of these men, these beasts, holding her down and . . .

More images flashed through her mind. Her parents. Monique.

Jimmy.

A tear ran down her cheek. She would never see them again. She would never reconcile with Jimmy. Her jaw trembled as she tried to hold back a sob of regret.

_I love you, Jimmy O'Bannon._

"Mmm." A chilling moan came from the middle Death Eater. "I hope you're a screamer. I love screamers. If you're not, I'll make you one." He chuckled, a sick, perverted chuckle.

Anger flared inside her. If these men were going to take her, she'd make damn sure they paid for it.

In blood.

"Now, you tall and tasty whore, drop your wand and -"

Mireet dove to the left, raised her wand, and . . .

**XXXXX**

O'Bannon tried to ignore the grumbling from his stomach. They were all back to eating tree bark again. Thankfully, with spring here, they could supplement it with animals like birds and squirrels and frogs and fish. Still, it wasn't enough to satisfy their hunger.

He wished Mireet would show up with more food. He figured things must be getting bad out there. She'd never gone this long without a delivery.

But food wasn't the only reason he wanted to see Mireet. For nearly a month he'd been kicking himself for that stupid argument they had during her last visit. What the hell possessed him to say that stuff? Were it not for Mireet they'd all be on the verge of starvation. How many risks had she taken on their behalf? And he belittled that? Made her feel useless?

_Idiot! You're a friggin' idiot, O'Bannon._

Rosa had told him as much shortly after Mireet Apparated that night. Actually, she'd reamed his ass out, using every synonym of the word "idiot," including all the British variations she learned from George Weasley. Even Jared chipped in his two cents with a, "What the hell were you thinking, man?"

_But I wasn't thinking, was I?_ No, instead he did what he always did when someone disagreed with him about something he felt strongly about. He pitched a fit like a friggin' five-year-old. He said things, did things, which wound up hurting people, people he cared about. He thought he learned his lesson after what happened between him, Rosa and Jared during the Chupacabra attacks in Britain last year. Obviously, he didn't.

All he could do now was pray Mireet would appear soon, so he could beg for her forgiveness, the way he did the night after the Yule Ball. He'd hurt her then, and he no doubt hurt her now.

_How can I do that twice to someone I care about so much?_

He leaned against a tree, his hand pressing down on his coat pocket where he kept the magical map. He couldn't count the times he feared this piece of parchment would suddenly erupt in flames, signifying Mireet's death, ending any chance he had to apologize to her.

_I should have known better. After what happened to Hector and Mrs. Diaz I should have –_

_Crack!_

O'Bannon whipped around, wand raised. He spotted a tall figure ten feet away, standing next to a bush. The moonlight reflected off her blond hair.

"Mireet?"

"_Oui,"_ she replied, sounding tired.

He still kept his wand raised. "You once told me when you were six, you got the worst spanking of your life. What did you do to deserve it?"

"I . . . I stole my sister's wand . . . waved it around, and accidentally blew apart our living room wall. And I was . . . I was eight at . . . at the time."

O'Bannon lowered his wand. It was definitely Mireet. But something didn't sound right with her with her voice. It sounded shaky, exhausted.

"Mireet?" He walked toward her. "Mireet, are you okay?"

She didn't respond. She just took a hesitant step toward him.

"Mireet, I'm sorry for what I said before. I didn't mean . . ."

His voice trailed off as he stopped in front of her. His eyes widened.

Mireet's left side was drenched in blood.

"Jimmy. I . . . I . . ."

She crumpled to the ground.

"MIREET!"

_**TO BE CONTINUED**_


	22. Pain From The Past

**CHAPTER 22: PAIN FROM THE PAST**

* * *

Jimmy O'Bannon recalled the times in his life when he had been truly afraid.

In Ovenderburg, when Serinta Sejant's Constrictus nearly killed him.

At The Burrow, when he and his friends were being overrun by the altered Chupacabra.

Several months back, when that giant almost crushed him.

None of it compared to the fear he felt now.

He slowly paced the living room of the girls' tent. His eyes constantly darted to the hallway that led to the bedrooms, his thoughts on one room in particular. The one where Rosa was treating Mireet.

His chest knotted. Magic healed wounds much quicker than Muggle medicine. So what could be taking Rosa so long?

_What if Mireet got hit by a really bad curse? What if Rosa can't heal it? What if Mireet . . . _

O'Bannon pressed his hands against the sides of his head. He didn't want to think that way. But after what happened to Hector Rand and Mrs. Diaz . . . Did fate finally catch up to him? Was it his turn to lose someone close to him?

_No. Please, God. Please don't let her die._

"I'm sure she'll be all right."

O'Bannon looked to Artimus, who sat in an armchair nearby, slowly rubbing his hands in his lap. Art had said that a few times over the last hour. Every time O'Bannon responded with a nod, trying to look confident. He doubted he succeeded.

He resumed his pacing, thinking about the argument between him and Mireet a month ago. What he wouldn't give to take that moment back, all those stupid words he said, the ones that sent her running away on the verge of tears.

His legs shook. For a moment, he feared he'd collapse. He forced himself to overcome it. Artimus was here. He couldn't fall apart in front of him.

_And you have to be strong for Mireet._

He repeated the mantra over and over in his mind, anything to keep from doing the one thing he so desperately wanted to do.

Fall to his knees and cry.

A door opened down the hallway.

O'Bannon froze. He heard footsteps coming from the hallway. Were they moving slowly? Slow was bad.

_No. No, please._

Rosa appeared. Artimus got to his feet as O'Bannon looked at her, trying to read her face. She wasn't smiling. She drew a slow breath and dropped her gaze to the ground.

_No. No! Not Mireet!_

Rosa crossed the room toward him, her face tight. A wave of dizziness swept through him. A lump formed in his throat.

"She's asleep now."

O'Bannon let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. All the strength fled his body. He fell against Rosa, who embraced him tightly.

"Is she . . . is she gonna be okay?"

"Yes. Yes she is."

He hugged Rosa tighter. He felt a tear run down his cheek. Hopefully neither Rosa nor Artimus saw it.

"She had a pretty nasty wound on her arm," Rosa explained. "But I used healing paste to get rid of any infection and seal it, at least as best I could. She did get hit by a curse, so she's going to have a permanent scar. She also lost a lot of blood, but the Blood Replenishment Potion took care of that. All she needs now is some rest, but she'll be fine."

He looked Rosa in the eyes, fighting back his tears. "I . . . I . . . thank you doesn't even cover this, Rosa."

She cupped his cheek with her hand and smiled. "You don't have to thank me, Jimmy. Not for this."

Artimus stepped over and clamped a hand on O'Bannon's shoulder. He turned to him with a quivering smile.

"I told you she'd be fine." Artimus nodded.

He nodded back, then turned to Rosa. "Can I see her?"

"Yeah, of course. She'll probably be asleep for a while, though."

"That's okay. I . . . I just want to be near her."

"I think she'd like that."

O'Bannon nodded and blinked a few times, trying to rid his eyes of tears. With a final, grateful smile to Rosa, he stepped around her and headed to the hallway.

"Um, Jimmy?" Art began. "It's almost time for me to take over Jared's watch. I know you have watch after me, but if you want me to stay out there a little longer, I will."

"No, that's okay. I'll take over after -"

"No you won't," Rosa said forcefully.

"But, Rosa. We need to -"

"_You _need to stay with Mireet tonight. Forget about watch. Art and I can handle it for the rest of the night. You need to be here."

O'Bannon opened his mouth to argue, but the determined look on Rosa's face silenced him. He just nodded, muttered, "Thank you," and headed down the hallway.

He stopped outside the door to Mireet's room, drew a couple of deep breaths and slowly pushed the door open.

His insides shuddered when he saw Mireet lying in the bed, the blankets drawn up past her chest. She looked so pale. She'd always been fair skinned, but now . . .

_It's probably the blood loss. She'll get her color back. She'll be fine._

The most reassuring sight had to be her chest rising and falling with steady breaths. The tears he fought back minutes ago returned. Thankfully, they didn't leave his eyes.

He used his wand to summon over a chair and sat beside Mireet's bed. His eyes locked on the dressing wrapped around her left shoulder and arm. He shivered, remembering the blood that covered her left side. A hot, invisible blade tore through his stomach. He resisted the urge to throw up. He'd seen blood before, lots of it. But to see someone he cared for covered in it . . .

_She's okay. Rosa fixed her up. _He thanked God the first year of auror training included numerous lessons in field healing skills.

O'Bannon leaned over and placed a gentle kiss on Mireet's forehead. He then took her hand, gave it a small squeeze and continued to hold it as he stared at her beautiful face.

His mouth opened. So many things he wanted to say. So many things he _had _to say. He had to apologize again, make sure that Mireet knew how truly sorry he was for those stupid, insensitive remarks. He also had something else he needed to tell her, something he'd wanted to say since their days at Hogwarts.

That he loved her. That he loved her more than anything in the world.

It didn't even matter if Mireet didn't reciprocate those feelings. He had to tell her. After everything that had happened, he couldn't afford to keep his true feelings from her any longer.

He continued to sit there, holding Mireet's hand, staring at her, ignoring his tiredness. He'd be damned if he'd fall asleep. When Mireet awoke, he wanted to make sure he was there for her.

O'Bannon caught himself nodding off a few times. He forced his eyelids back as far as they'd go.

_I will not sleep. I will not sleep._

Sometime later, Mireet's eyelids fluttered.

"Mireet?" He slid to the edge of his seat.

She moaned, her eyes opening. Slowly, she turned her head toward him. "Jimmy?"

His chest swelled. His right cheek twitched. _Don't cry. Be strong for her._

"Hey. How are you feeling?"

"Sore," she sounded groggy. She took a few breaths and winced, trying to sit up.

"Forget it." He put a gentle hand on Mireet's right shoulder. "You lay back. You got hurt pretty bad."

She let out a sigh and gazed around the tent. "I made it here." It almost sounded like a question.

"Yeah, you did. I'll tell you what, though, you scared the hell out of us. What happened to you?"

"I was attacked by Death Eaters."

Fear surged through O'Bannon. He squeezed Mireet's hand as she continued.

"They learned I was working against You-Know-Who. They've been using the Imperius Curse on homeless Muggles around Washington, using them as their spies. Two of them came after me with guns, but I was able to stun them. I think they were only meant to be a distraction, because when I crossed the Anti-Apparation barrier, three Death Eaters appeared."

"Three of 'em? How did you get away?"

"I fought them." Her voice sounded stronger now. "They were talking, saying how they wanted to do . . . things to me."

O'Bannon gritted his teeth. He wanted to find these sick sons-of-bitches and rip them apart with his bare hands.

Mireet went on. "I was not going to let them touch me. I managed to get two of them before I got away, but I felt my arm burn and . . ." She turned away from him, staring at the dressing covering her wound. He felt her tense.

"Don't worry. Rosa fixed you up. You're gonna be fine."

A weak smile crossed her lips.

He leaned closer to her. "Mireet, I'm so sorry for what I said last time you were here. I was just . . . I was an idiot. You didn't deserve that, not after everything you've done for us. Please, please forgive me."

She squeezed his hand back. "I do. I do forgive you, Jimmy."

An airy feeling consumed him. A huge smile spread over his face.

His heart hammered in his chest. He swallowed, screwing up every ounce of Gryffindor bravery to say what needed to be said.

"Mireet. There's . . . I gotta tell you something. I -"

"Jimmy," she cut him off. "I need to tell you how the Death Eaters found me."

He bit his lower lip. He so wanted to tell Mireet he loved her, but held off. It sounded like she wanted to tell him something important, too.

She took a breath. "The Guild gave me a pendant with a charm on it. Should any of my contacts be captured or killed, it would alert me. And . . . and while I was home tonight, the pendant darkened and . . . some initials appeared."

Mireet swallowed. "My contacts who were killed, they were Frankie Freehold and . . . and the Rollingsworths."

The words hit him like a Body-Bind Curse. He couldn't move. His mind went numb. Did Mireet really say those words?

His mouth slowly fell open. Several seconds passed before his vocal cords could work again. "The Rollingsworths? All of them? R-Rana? Rana, too?"

Mireet closed her eyes and nodded.

O'Bannon fell back in his chair. He barely realized he'd let go of her hand. He gazed blankly at the wall opposite from him.

_Rana? Dead?_

A black hole opened inside him. This couldn't be real. Rana couldn't be dead.

Memories flashed through his mind. His first night at Salem, when they first met, and the enthusiastic way she described Quidditch to him. The summer before he left for Hogwarts, when he took his parents to their first Quidditch match at the Boston Bandits home field, and how Rana had been there to personally greet them. How she'd been one of the few students who initially believed him about You-Know-Who's return. How close they became Seventh Year. Walking around campus together, holding hands, talking about all sorts of things.

His lips tingled when he recalled their first kiss at the school's Halloween dance.

A strangled moan escaped his throat when he remembered the night they broke up. Every ounce of pain he felt two years ago surged through him now. For months he didn't say a single word to Rana. Just looking at her hurt. They did finally reconcile at graduation.

He hadn't seen her, or talked to her, since.

And now he never would.

_Rana._

Why hadn't he reconciled with her sooner? Maybe they could have tried again. Maybe they could have just been friends. He could have lived with that. Instead he shut her out of his life, this girl who'd been a friend long before she became a girlfriend. And why? Because he had to act like an idiot, like he always did when things didn't go his way.

He thought back to graduation, as he was hugging Rana. For a few moments, he considered trying to rekindle their relationship. But with her playing for the Portland Sea Nymphs and him headed to Washington to work with the YWWAAA, he doubted it would have worked.

_I could have tried. Maybe she would have gone for it. Maybe we'd still be together._

_Maybe she'd still be alive._

"Jimmy, I'm so sorry." She reached out a grasped his wrist. "Rana was my contact to drop off the recordings of _Potterwatch. _She told me that you two had been . . . close."

O'Bannon felt his self-control collapsing. Anger and grief collided within him. He rose on shaky legs. "I, um . . . Mireet, can I just . . . I'll be back. I just want to, um . . ."

"Go, Jimmy. It's all right."

He nodded and exited the room. He walked down the hallway, almost zombie-like.

_Rana's dead. She's really dead._

O'Bannon left the girls' tent and ambled to the boys' tent. He clearly pictured Rana in his mind as he entered his bedroom. She stood near the Quidditch field, broom in hand, her brown hair ravaged by the wind and smiling as she held the Golden Snitch. She looked so beautiful.

O'Bannon leaned over the wooden chair, his hands clutching the back of it.

Another image entered his mind. Rana lying on the floor of some darkened building, robed figures standing over her, smiling and laughing. He pictured one of them pointing a wand at her. Rana's eyes lit with fear.

"_Avada Kedavra!"_

There was a flash of green.

Rana was dead.

_She's . . . dead._

O'Bannon picked up the chair. He let loose a primal roar and smashed it against the wall.

_**TO BE CONTINUED**_


	23. The Darkest Night

**CHAPTER 23: THE DARKEST NIGHT**

* * *

O'Bannon's heart sped up as Rana smiled at him. What a beautiful smile. So bright, so warm. The music faded from his ears. All the other students dancing around him vanished. Only Rana Rollingsworth existed in his world.

He tilted his head and leaned in. His lips gently pressed against hers. Unbridled joy swept through him.

Suddenly, Rana was no longer there.

"Rana?" He looked around the Salem Witches Institute's Communal Hall. He didn't see Rana. Didn't see anyone.

"Rana!" He hurried through the deserted hall. Dread gripped his insides. _Where is she? _

He shoved open the doors leading outside . . . and stopped.

Rana lay on the ground, unmoving. Half-a-dozen hooded figures stood over her, brandishing wands.

O'Bannon wanted to shout, wanted to take out his wand and kill every damn Death Eater.

But he couldn't move.

He just stared at the Death Eaters as they brought up their wands. Six green bolts streaked through the air.

The world went black.

O'Bannon bolted upright in bed, drenched in sweat, heart racing. His head snapped left and right. It took a few moments before he realized he was in his bedroom.

He sucked down several deep breaths, trying to steady his heart beat.

_Just a dream. It was just a dream._

He shut his eyes and clenched his teeth. Not all of it was a dream. The Halloween Dance at Salem was real . . . had been real. So had his kiss with Rana.

So was the fact Rana was dead.

He flung the blankets off him, put on his shoes and trudged off to the bathroom. O'Bannon stripped down to the waist and splashed cold water on his face and torso. He stared at himself in the mirror, droplets of water running down his cheeks and dripping from his chin.

_Rana. Why Rana?_

He dried himself off, got dressed and headed back to his bedroom. Just as he reached for the doorknob, he stopped. The dream still haunted his mind. His chest tightened as he imagined Rana lying dead at the feet of the Death Eaters.

Knowing it would be useless to fall asleep now, he grunted and stalked down the hallway. He slapped at the tent flap and stepped into the early morning darkness. He stared up at the night sky, jaw clenched, gazing at the stars. A chill hung in the air, not the bitter cold they'd experienced for the past few months. Spring had firmly taken hold in the Appalachians. In fact, tomorrow would be May 1st.

_God. We've been on the run for nearly nine months._

Something else occurred to him. In another month, it would be the second anniversary of his graduation from Salem.

Graduation. The last time he saw Rana.

His head drooped, moisture gathering in his eyes.

"Jimmy?"

He whipped his head right. A figure stood among the trees near him.

Rosa.

_That's right. She has watch right now._

Swallowing against his gathering tears, he shuffled over to her.

"You okay?" she asked.

"Yeah. Fine," he muttered. "Just can't sleep."

Rosa cranked an eyebrow. She fixed him with a penetrating stare. "You wanna talk about it?"

O'Bannon's jaw tightened. He stared back at Rosa. Should he tell her?

_You're the leader. You have to look like you're in control._

"There's nothing to talk about. I'm fine. I just needed some air."

He turned and started back to the tent.

"Jimmy." Rosa grabbed his arm. He halted and looked over his shoulder.

Her eyes narrowed. "Cut the strong, silent type crap. I know when something's bothering you. So spill it."

His mouth remained shut. He looked away from Rosa.

"Jimmy." Rosa's voice softened a bit. "It's just you and me out here." She bit her lip for a moment. "Talk to me."

His neck muscles tightened. Slowly, he turned back to Rosa. Still he didn't speak.

"Is this about Rana?"

O'Bannon's shoulders slumped. Rosa's hand slid down his arm. Her fingers intertwined with his. She gave his hand a squeeze.

"I dreamed about her." He fought to keep his voice steady. "We were at the Halloween Dance, and we kissed and . . . and . . ."

He sighed and leaned his head back. "I can't stop thinking about her. Every night for the past week I've had some dream about her. And sometimes, I don't understand it."

"Understand what?"

He looked back at her. "How I can feel like this? Rana and I broke up over two years ago. We weren't even together all that long. And . . . and there's Mireet."

He waited for Rosa to say something. When she didn't, he continued. "The night Mireet showed up, after you got done treating her and she woke up, I . . . I was gonna tell her I loved her."

A smile flashed across Rosa's face.

O'Bannon sighed. "I love Mireet. How can I keep thinking about Rana, how can I feel like this when it's Mireet I really care about?"

Rosa gave his hand another gentle squeeze and took a small step toward him. "It's because Rana meant something to you. I know how much you cared about her, how happy you were when you were around her, or when you talked about her. And I remember how much you hurt when she broke up with you."

"But . . . the way I'm feeling about Rana's death, it makes me think . . . well . . . I don't know, it's probably stupid."

"What?"

O'Bannon chewed on his lower lip. His shoulders tensed. The air around him grew a bit colder. "It's just . . . I'm thinking so much about Rana, I just wonder if that means I don't love Mireet as much as I thought."

"You know what it means?" Rosa spoke in a firm tone. "It means you're human. When someone we really cared about dies, we're going to mourn. It doesn't matter if you and Rana ended things a long time ago, she meant something to you. It's going to hurt, and it doesn't mean you love Mireet any less. She knows Rana used to be your girlfriend, and I can tell you that she understands this is hard for you."

O'Bannon responded with a barely perceptible nod. "You know what really sucks. When we broke up, I didn't even speak to her until graduation. Seven months, Rosa. All I had to do was tell her I understood her decision, and maybe we could have gone back to being just friends. But no. I thought talking to her would be too . . . painful. I'd look at her, and I'd think of what I could have had with her. And I didn't want to deal with that pain." He shook his head. "How the hell could I have been so stupid?"

"I . . . I know what you mean, Jimmy." Rosa cast her gaze to the ground. When she looked up at him, her eyes glistened with tears. "I was friends with Rana before we ever came to Salem. Her parents were rich and she was a star Quidditch player, but she never acted like it made her better than everyone else. She was so down-to-earth and so nice, and we got along so well. But when she broke up with you, and I saw how much it hurt you, I . . . I was so mad at her. I mean, why couldn't she understand it was the Projection Potion that made you go berserk at the dance? Why couldn't she give you another chance? I didn't even try to understand her side of the story." A tear slid down her cheek. "I don't even think I wanted to. Every time I saw how miserable you were, I wanted to hate her." She sniffled. "She was my friend. And I treated her like crap. And you're a better person than me, Jimmy, because you could forgive her, and I wouldn't."

Rosa fell against him. O'Bannon wrapped his arms around her as she let out a sob. He felt his own tears about to spill from his eyes. Somehow, he held them in. He had to be strong for Rosa right now.

It proved a struggle. A black cloud of depression settled over him. He thought about Rana and her family, all dead. He recalled Hector Rand being struck down right in front of him.

Thoughts of death dominated his mind. Mrs. Diaz. Cindy Walker. The Pinders. Mr. Tonks. Mr. Hillenbrand, his old Potions Teacher.

"It's never going to stop." A chill crept over him, causing him to shiver. "They're going to kill everyone we care about, and we can't stop it."

"I know." Now Rosa started to quake. "I know."

O'Bannon gritted his teeth. Sorrow filled his soul, screaming to be released. He didn't think he could stop it.

Suddenly Rosa tensed. She pushed away from him and spun around, wand raised.

"Merlin's beard," she whispered in distress.

"What is it?" O'Bannon asked flatly.

"Get your wand out. Now!"

He sighed and reached for his wand, wondering why the urgency. Could it be an animal? A bear, maybe? Or another setagotha? He hoped so. Maybe it would jump on him and tear him apart. What was the point of living anyway with . . .

Shock rippled through him. _Where the hell did that thought come from?_

He gripped his wand tight and took slow breaths. Never in his life could he remember feeling so depressed.

"_Expecto Patronum!"_ Rosa yelled. A brilliant white light burst from her wand. It quickly took the shape of an ethereal jaguar and lunged deep into the woods.

That's when O'Bannon saw them. Two very tall figures in dark cloaks spun away from Rosa's patronus. He caught a glimpse of one of their hands; Shriveled, scabbed, decayed. He also noticed something else. They didn't seem to be touching the ground. They looked as though they were gliding.

That's when he realized why he'd been so depressed.

The figures Rosa had chased away were Dementors.

"_Lumos!"_ O'Bannon's wand glowed brightly. He scanned the woods, much more alert.

Another Dementor glided toward him.

His muscles tensed. He battled through the cold and despair that threatened to consume him.

_Happy thoughts. Happy thoughts._

The Dementor drew closer.

O'Bannon picked his memory. He and Mireet at the Yule Ball, their arms around each other as they danced. Everything came back to him from that night. The feel of her body in his arms, her flowery scent, the airy sensation that rose inside him every time he gazed at her beautiful face.

"_Expecto Patronum!"_

A brilliant white, ethereal bear leapt from O'Bannon's wand. It bowled over the Dementor, which twisted around and fled.

He stood back-to-back with Rosa, scanning the darkened woods.

Four more Dementors launched themselves at them.

The bear patronus and the jaguar patronus flashed over them. The hooded creatures emitted raspy, agonized gasps before slinking away.

O'Bannon continued to sweep the woods with his eyes and his wand. His skin felt warmer. The depression he'd experienced mere minutes ago vanished.

"I think they're gone," he said.

"Yeah. I'm feeling better now. But I think we've got bigger problems."

"What?" He turned to her.

"You know who the Dementors serve these days."

His eyes widened. The breath caught in his throat.

O'Bannon took off toward the tents, Rosa right behind him. He charged into the boys' tent, while Rosa rushed into the girls' tent.

"Everybody up!" he shouted. "Everybody up, now! We gotta move!"

He banged on all the doors, constantly yelling. "Get up! Everybody up!"

Jared threw open his door and stepped into the hallway, wand in hand. "Jimmy? What's goin' on?"

"We just got visited by Dementors. We sent 'em packing, but they know where we are now."

Jared's eyes bulged. O'Bannon knew he didn't have to explain to him how deadly serious things had become.

In less than two minutes he, Jared and Artimus herded all the boys outside. Rosa, Mireet and the girls were there waiting for them.

"What's going on, Coach Jimmy?" Holly asked in a sleepy voice.

"We had some Dementors try to attack us. We have to Apparate to Rally Point A right -"

Several sharp _cracks _echoed through the woods. O'Bannon whipped his head in all directions, wand at the ready.

"Jimmy O'Bannon!" A harsh voice cut through the air. "You and your blood traitor friends are surrounded! Surrender now, or die!"

_**TO BE CONTINUED**_


	24. A Surrender To Darkness

**CHAPTER 24: A FINAL CONFRONTATION**

* * *

*****IMPORTANT AUTHOR'S NOTE*****_ The following contains some coarse language and discussion of subjects some readers may find rather disturbing. You have been warned._

* * *

Fear gripped O'Bannon. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't even move. He just stared into the darkened woods, mouth agape.

The moonlight revealed the silhouettes of three cloaked figures among the trees. Death Eaters. He doubted those three were the only ones out there.

Frightened gasps and sobs went up behind him. He whipped around. Jillian clung to her brother Jonah, her face buried in his shoulder. Kyon's hand shot out and clamped around Daedalus' arm. Willie and Brendan shook visibly. Vance actually hid behind Deanna.

Anger merged with O'Bannon's fear. Nine months. For nine months they had been in the Appalachians, evading Death Eaters, surviving attacks by giants and setagothas.

_It can't end here. It can't!_

"O'Bannon!" a Death Eater bellowed. "Surrender now! I won't ask you again!"

His eyes took in the children. Basic instinct told him to fight. But how many of his kids would be hurt, maybe even killed, if they battled the Death Eaters?

_And what if we don't?_

A shiver went through him. He'd be dead, and so would his friends. He looked at them all. Rosa, Jared, Artimus . . .

Mireet.

His best friends in the world, his family, and the woman he loved more than anything. His stomach churned thinking about all of them being tortured and killed.

And the children. The Diazes and the Infantes told him You-Know-Who's bunch would likely try to brainwash them into being future Death Eaters. He doubted their methods would be anywhere near pleasant. How many would survive it? What if they refused to convert to You-Know-Who's twisted beliefs?

His eyes settled on Holly, who was shaking and in tears. He recalled that terrible night when she got scratched by the poisonous setagotha spine and nearly died.

His throat tightened. He couldn't let her suffer again.

He couldn't let any of them suffer.

"O'BANNON! ANSWER ME, YOU FILTH-EATING MUDBLOOD!"

O'Bannon swung around toward the direction of the voice, scowling. He was about to unleash a profanity-laced response, but stopped himself. He had a better response, one from one of the many military books he read to make himself a better leader. A rather famous response from General Anthony McAuliffe to the Germans surrounding his American forces at Bastogne during World War Two, demanding their surrender.

"You want my answer? Here it is!" He held his wand to his throat to magically amplify his voice. "NUTS!"

He imagined the Death Eaters being just as confused by the word as the Germans had been. In that moment of confusion, O'Bannon slashed his wand across his body. An ice wall formed in front of him. Rosa then took it upon herself to use her wand erect several earthen berms around them. O'Bannon then waved his right palm down. Everyone got to their knees.

"I take it you got a plan?" asked Jared.

He nodded, feeling the wand vibrate in his hand. Rosa, Jared, Artimus and Mireet also stared down at their wands.

"They're trying to break down the wards," Mireet noted.

O'Bannon nodded. "And we probably only have a minute or two before they get through." He took a breath and looked around at everyone. "Okay. We have to assume we're surrounded, and with the anti-Apparation barrier we have around our camp we can forget about popping out of here."

"And that's probably the one ward the Death Eaters will leave up," Rosa stated.

He nodded and continued. "Our only chance is to get out of the barrier and Apparate to Rally Point A. We can head for that rock overhang about a hundred yards from here, the one we told you kids to hid under if anything happened."

"So how do we get through the Death Eaters?" asked Jared.

"Muggle soldiers have a simple tactic for situations like this. They just lay down as much lead as they can."

Mireet furrowed her brow. But he'd shown Rosa, Jared and Artimus enough Muggle action movies that they knew "lead" meant bullets.

"We're gonna do the wizarding version of that. When I say, 'now,' we all launch flare charms. That'll blind 'em for a few seconds. Then we cast smoke charms, try to blind 'em even more, then we just rake the woods with every spell, hex and curse we know. They'll be so confused and so worried about keeping their heads down we'll be able to slip past 'em. Got it?"

Everyone nodded.

Their wands quaked violently. Mist rose from each one, showing a display of their encampment surrounded by rainbow like arches.

"They're almost through the wards," Artimus blurted.

A determined look settled on O'Bannon's face. "Everybody ready?"

His friends and many of the children nodded.

"Now!"

The quartet and Mireet raised their wands over their heads. Brilliant white balls of light shot into the air. Everyone looked away and closed their eyes. O'Bannon heard fireworks-like pops above them. A bright white light tried to burn through the darkness of his closed eyes. Several Death Eaters yelped and cursed.

Columns of black smoke poured from their wands and surrounded the encampment. Death Eaters coughed and shouted.

"Where are they?"

"I can't see them!"

"Someone get rid of this damn smoke!"

"Go! Go! Go!" O'Bannon yelled.

They scrambled over Rosa's earthen barriers. The quartet and Mireet snapped their wands in all directions as they ran. Multi-colored streaks of light flashed through the darkness. Trees burst into splinters. Fireballs exploded in the woods. Two tortured cries pierced the darkness.

They took return fire from the Death Eaters, most of it badly aimed. O'Bannon and his friends kept up their barrage. Rosa turned a few trees into flailing tentacles, one of which snatched a Death Eater and whipped him around. Mireet sent tidal waves of dirt into the woods. Artimus formed a miniature tornado that tore through the trees. It picked up a robed figure and tossed him into a cloud of smoke.

They neared the rock outcropping. O'Bannon coated the ground behind them with a sheet of ice as he jumped off the edge. It was just a two foot drop. He looked around at the group.

"Everybody here?"

Twenty-two heads nodded at him.

"Mireet! Artimus! Start Apparating the kids out of here, youngest to oldest. Me, Rosa and Jared will cover you."

He immediately turned back to the direction they had just come. Fireballs, Reductor Curses, Stunning Spells, Battering Spells and Spiked-Ball Spells flew from his wand. Rosa and Jared joined in. A red-orange glow settled over the woods as trees, and the remains of trees, went up in flames. A few Death Eater curses flew at them. They either missed or were blocked by the three.

_Crack! Crack!_

Mireet and Artimus Apparated away, each with two kids.

Fourteen left.

Seconds later, Mireet and Artimus returned and Apparated four more children away.

Ten left.

O'Bannon, Rosa and Jared continued throwing curses into the woods. More trees erupted in flames. Fountains of dirt exploded beyond them. The return fire picked up, some of it coming from angles.

_They're trying to outflank us._

The three shifted their fields of fire as Mireet and Artimus returned and Apparated away four more children.

Six left.

More curses rained down on them. The three started erecting more defensive spells than offensive. O'Bannon clenched his teeth as a curse slammed against his Shield Charm. The Death Eaters were starting to re-organize. Another worry hit him. Could they have sent word to bring in reinforcements?

_How much longer can we hold on?_

He blocked a bolt of fire with his shield.

_As long as we have to._

Mireet and Artimus returned and took hold of two more children each. One more trip after this and . . .

"What the hell?" Artimus exclaimed.

"What's wrong?" Rosa spared a brief glance at him before sending another Whirlwind Spell at the Death Eaters.

"We can't Apparate!"

"What!" O'Bannon cried out.

"Oh dammit!" Jared let loose a volley of Stunning Spells. "The Death Eaters musta set up a temporary Anti-Apparation barrier!"

Fear swelled within O'Bannon. A chill sank through his skin and into his bones.

_What do we do? What do we do?_

"Jimmy!" Rosa turned to him. "Let's each of us take a kid and split up. Get outside the barrier and Apparate."

He glanced at her, more spells impacting against his shield. His arm grew numb.

"They'll have to divide their forces to go after all of us. Better to face one or two than however many's out there. It's our only chance!"

A curse struck eight feet away. The ground exploded, showering them with dirt.

There was no time to think of another plan.

"Let's do it! Mireet, Artimus! Lay down smoke! Rest of you guys, fireballs!"

Jets of black smoke rolled into the woods, followed by a storm of fireballs. Trees exploded or turned into towers of flame.

"Go! Go!"

O'Bannon grabbed Kyon, the closest kid to him, and hurried off.

"Daedalus, be careful!" she shouted over her shoulder.

"You, too!" Daedalus replied as he ran away with Rosa.

Kyon's hand in his, O'Bannon rushed down the steep incline, trying to run fast and keep his balance all at the same time. Spells and curses sizzled behind him. He kept glancing over his shoulder for any sign of pursuing Death Eaters. He found none. After running a few more yards he flicked his wand, checking on the Anti-Apparation barrier.

Still there. How much further did they have to go before they were past it?

A row of bushes appeared in front of them. O'Bannon and Kyon angled to the left to avoid them.

Something crackled behind him. A thousand hornet stings pierced his legs. He cried out and fell forward, dragging Kyon with him.

They tumbled through the bushes, branches whipping at them. Moments later they exited the bushes and rolled to a stop.

O'Bannon gritted his teeth and started to rise.

He couldn't feel his legs.

Panic struck him. He twisted his head around. His legs were still there. His brain screamed at them to move.

They wouldn't.

His fist pounded the ground. Some sort of Impediment Jinx, a very powerful one.

"Jimmy?" Kyon crawled over to him. "Jimmy? Are you okay?"

"I can't move my legs." He looked into Kyon's face. Terror and worry blazed across her face. Tears flooded her eyes.

She took a quick breath and grabbed his left sleeve. Her face strained as she tried to pull him. Kyon only moved him a couple inches.

"Forget it," O'Bannon barked at her. "Kyon, get out of here. Find a place to hide."

"I can't leave you here."

"I said go! That's an order!"

Tears streamed down Kyon's cheeks.

"GO!"

Sobbing, Kyon got to her feet and sprinted away. She vanished in the darkness between some trees.

O'Bannon flexed his right hand. Panic flooded through him.

His wand was gone.

He crawled on his elbows, trying to find his wand. Without it he was good as –

Branches rustled behind him. He picked up soft footfalls on the ground. Terror filled his chest. He forced his head to turn left.

A robed figure stalked toward him tall and round in shape, its wand pointing at him.

O'Bannon thought he'd be more scared. This was it. The Death Eater would kill him. But he found himself scared more for his friends, for the children, for Mireet, than himself. He prayed they all made it out alive. He regretted he never told Mireet he loved her.

_I bet she knows. She has to know. _

But it would have been better if he had told her.

The Death Eater drew closer.

Sweat broke out over O'Bannon's body. He tensed, waiting for the green flash of the Killing Curse.

_Don't look afraid. Don't give the bastard the satisfaction._

A T-shirt popped into his mind, one he saw at a Spencer's Gifts store a few years ago. A huge eagle diving at a mouse, and the mouse raising its middle finger. The caption on the shirt read, THE LAST GREAT ACT OF DEFIANCE.

He raised his middle finger. "Suck on this, you piece of shit. And oh yeah, enjoy your raping and pillaging days while you can, 'cause one day Harry Potter's gonna meet your precious 'Dark Lord,' and he's gonna kick his slimy ass back to Hell!"

The Death Eater stopped four feet from him.

O'Bannon held his breath, waiting for a Killing Curse to take him.

To his surprise, the Death Eater laughed.

_What the hell? _O'Bannon cranked an eyebrow.

The Death Eater shook his head. "You haven't changed, have you, O'Bannon? Still running your Mudblood mouth and spewing your meaningless insults."

His mouth fell open in shock. He recognized the voice instantly.

The Death Eater grabbed the top of his hood and threw it back, revealing a puffy face and black hair.

O'Bannon fought through the shock and found his voice. "Merak?"

Merak Mather shot him a wicked smile. "Hello, Jimmy. It's been a while, hasn't it?"

He couldn't blink. His eyes locked on Mather's face. The reality of the situation still hadn't completely sunk in. Yes he knew the Mather family had jumped over to You-Know-Who's side. But to see Merak, a boy he'd seen every day at Salem for seven years, now standing over him in Death Eater robes . . .

Mather's smile grew wider, more evil. "You know, O'Bannon, I've been dreaming of this since the day I got my mark. Seven years. Seven years I put up with your insults, your taunting, your threats, your attitude that you actually thought you were better than me because you chose to associate with commoners. Where do you get off thinking that! My family is one of the oldest wizarding families in North America. You're nothing compared to us!"

"Is that why you let them brand a snake on your arm? 'Cause I hurt your feelings?"

"Ha! Don't flatter yourself. My father lost a hand in the last war fighting for your kind. You really think he was going to sacrifice anything else on behalf of you Mudbloods? You scum who come into _our_ world thinking you're better than us? Who want to tear down every tradition we hold dear? We saw the writing on the wall. The Dark Lord is going to win this war, and my family doesn't like being on the losing side of anything."

"You mean your family's too cowardly to stand up for what's right."

Mather chuckled. "Well, I'd rather be a live coward than a dead hero."

O'Bannon's face tightened. His heart raced. "Go ahead, you little shit. Kill me, then."

"No, I can't do that. I have orders to take you to Olin Grath himself. He's gonna make examples out of all of you. And me, I'm going to get that ten thousand gold piece reward for capturing you. Actually, it's going to be twenty thousand when I find the little blood traitor brat who was with you."

"I don't know what you're talking about. I'm alone."

The grin fled Mather's face. He stared at him with narrowed eyes.

"Oh, that's your thinking face, right?" O'Bannon gave him a sly grin. "I can imagine the strain you're under, trying to form an idea when you only have a couple brain cells to rub toge-"

"_Crucio!"_

A thousand flaming, invisible knifes slashed O'Bannon's body, plunging into his muscles, his bones, his very soul. He arched his back, opened his mouth, and screamed, a scream he never thought would come from him. Pure agony. Unimaginable pain.

_Make it stop! Make it stop! Please, God! Make it stop!_

It stopped.

O'Bannon lay on the ground, inhaling ragged breaths. His body throbbed. Sweat streamed from every pore.

"Olin Grath ordered us not to kill you." Mather stepped closer, the evil grin returning to his face. "But he didn't say anything about having a little fun before I take you to him."

O'Bannon rolled onto his stomach, coughing, his insides twisted. He rested his forehead on his folded arms. _I don't wanna go through that again._

"Where's the little blood traitor?" Merak demanded. "I heard her talking to you. Where is she?"

O'Bannon took a couple quick breaths. He lifted his elbows and started crawling away from Mather.

"Oh, what's this? Mister Tough Guy Jimmy O'Bannon's trying to run away? Yeah, you're not so tough when you don't have your trio of blood traitors around to help you, are you?"

He just kept crawling.

"How dare you think you belong in my world?"

O'Bannon opened his mouth to speak. His throat felt numb, and his lungs and stomach felt twisted in painful knots.

"Where's the girl, dammit! Tell me or I'll Crucio you again!"

He stopped. A tear rolled down his eye. No. He couldn't take another blast of the Torture Curse. He couldn't deal with that sort of pain.

_Just tell him, _a voice whispered.

He imagined Kyon's face. He then pictured her being hit with the same Cruciatus Curse. No. No, he couldn't let that happen.

"Fine by me, O'Bannon. _Crucio!"_

He clenched his teeth. _Don't scream. Don't scream._

The curse struck.

He didn't scream.

For a fraction of a second.

Merak roared with sadistic laughter when he ended the curse an eternity later. "Finally! FINALLY! Someone is putting you in your place! I'm just so damn glad it's _me _doing it!"

O'Bannon lay spread-eagled on the ground, wheezing, bolts of pain still pulsating through his body. Tears ran down his cheeks. He couldn't take another Crucio. Would he betray Kyon? How could he?

But the pain, the horrible agony.

_I don't want to hurt like that again._

_Be strong. Be strong._

He crawled forward, a centimeter at a time. He sensed Mather approaching him.

"You know something, O'Bannon. I'm having so much fun giving you the Cruciatus, I don't even care now if you tell me where the little whore is."

O'Bannon clenched his teeth. Where the hell did this bastard get off calling an eleven-year-old witch a whore? He stretched out a shaky hand and pulled himself forward a couple inches. He reached out with his other hand and crawled forward another couple of inches.

"And you know, this isn't the only fun I can have. When we round up the rest of your blood traitor friends, I'm gonna make sure I pay a _special _visit to Rosa."

Tremors of rage rippled through O'Bannon. He crawled forward another few inches. Out the corner of his eye, he saw Mather not more than two feet away.

"You've been sticking your other wand in her far too long." Mather's voice took on an acidic quality. "Oh, I don't believe that 'just friends' crap for a minute. If you're around a witch like that all the time, you are definitely getting a piece of that ass."

O'Bannon bared his teeth and crawled another couple of inches.

"Well now I'm going to make sure _I_ get a piece of that delicious ass. I can only imagine how fun it's going to be. I can picture Rosa putting up a fight. I wonder if I'm going to have to chain her up. Heh! That might make things even kinkier."

O'Bannon scowled and pushed himself forward a few more inches.

"Tell me, O'Bannon. Is Rosa a screamer?"

He didn't answer. He just shook with fury.

_You sick son-of-a-bitch._

"Well, if she isn't a screamer, I'll turn her into one." Mather laughed at his own sick joke. "Besides, I need to show these stupid witches what a _pureblood _wizard can do. I missed my chance to do that with your other girlfriend."

O'Bannon stiffened. Did he mean . . .

"I don't know if you heard or not, but we killed Rana Rollingsworth and her traitorous parents. A shame, really. The Rollingsworths were a well-to-do pureblood family, lineage dating back to the 1750s. But they spat on our traditions, treated Mudbloods like _real _witches and wizards. And that little slut Rana let herself be _touched _by you. She and her parents all deserved to die."

O'Bannon's hands bent into claws. He reached out and dug them into the dirt, wishing it was Mather's throat instead.

"Do you know I talked to one of the Death Eaters who found the Rollingsworths?" Mather chuckled. "Oh, the things they did to them. The more he talked about it, the more I wish I had been there."

O'Bannon growled and crawled forward, spittle hanging from his mouth. Mather stayed alongside him.

"You probably don't know this, being a Mudblood, but there are many, _many _ways to make witches and wizards suffer besides the Cruciatus Curse. And from what this Death Eater told me, they used most of them on the Rollingsworths. All kinds of very nasty and painful curses and hexes, along with a more . . . _physical _approach. At least on Rana and her mother."

Mather chuckled.

O'Bannon's face twisted in rage. He reached out to keep crawling.

His hand fell on something hard and jagged. He stiffened for a moment.

It was a fist-sized rock.

"But the best part," Mather went on with sick delight, "and this is truly creative. One of the Death Eaters used an Imperius Curse on Lawrence Rollingsworth and made him go after Rana and . . . well, let's just say the things he did to her, no father should do to their own daughter."

Mather's perverted laughter echoed through the night.

Rage consumed O'Bannon. He gripped the rock tighter.

Rana. They did . . . how could they? Bastards.

BASTARDS!

He looked over his shoulder at the still laughing Mather. His breaths grew fierce, spit flying from his mouth.

Mather looked down at him, his face red from all the laughing. "Well, enough about your dead, blood traitor girlfriend. It's time I brought you to Olin Grath and collect my reward. But, before I do, maybe one more Cruciatus Curse, just for fun. What do you think, Mudblood?"

"Fuck you," O'Bannon snarled.

"No. That's what I'll be doing to Rosa. And I swear I saw that fugitive Mireet Miradeaux with you here. That's just too damn good. I always wanted to fuck a French whore."

Pure, unadulterated hatred coursed through O'Bannon. He watched Mather back up a few steps, wand raised. What remained of the logical part of his mind told him he could never reach Mather before he cast the Torture Curse.

The rest of him didn't give a damn.

He drew a breath and held it, ignoring the echoes of pain from the two Crucios. He summoned all his remaining strength and prayed –

"No!" Kyon shouted somewhere nearby.

Mather spun around . . . and got hit in the chest by a rock. He groaned and flinched.

O'Bannon unleashed a war cry and lunged forward.

Mather whipped around, wand aimed at him.

Too late.

O'Bannon swung and smashed the rock into Mather's ankle. A loud, sickening _snap_ filled the air.

Mather screamed. He crumpled to the ground, dropping his wand and reaching for his shattered ankle.

O'Bannon leaped on him. Mather tried to bring up an arm and shove him off. O'Bannon roared and brought the rock down on Mather's forehead. Blood exploded across his brow.

Mather's words echoed in his mind. What they had done to Rana. What he wanted to do to Rosa and Mireet. And ever present in his recent memory, the unimaginable pain from those Cruciatus Curses.

O'Bannon hit him with the rock again. Again.

A darkness overwhelmed him. Coherent thought vanished, replaced by . . . something else. Something primal. He willingly surrendered to hate and fury.

The rock came down again . . . again . . . again. He couldn't stop. He didn't want to stop.

Somewhere on the periphery of consciousness, he heard a voice. He had no idea what it said. He didn't care. All that mattered was the rock in his hand going up and down, up and down, over and over again.

"Jimmy!"

A bright flash melted the darkness. Something yanked him through the air and threw him across the ground. He blinked rapidly. He saw shadowy trees and bushes around him . . . and a figure running toward him. He gripped the rock tighter.

"Jimmy! Jimmy, calm down!"

Recognition flashed in his mind. The all-consuming rage faded. A familiar face appeared before him.

"Jimmy!" Rosa gripped both his shoulders. "Jimmy, it's over. You stopped him. Jimmy, are you all right?"

He started breathing again. All the energy drained from his body. He suddenly felt the urge to sleep. And his right hand. For some reason it felt wet and sticky.

"R-Rosa?"

"Jimmy?" Another voice called out. It took his brain a couple seconds to realize it belonged to Kyon. "Jimmy, are you okay?"

"He's gonna be fine, honey," Rosa assured her. "Come here. Don't look over there! Come here."

Kyon knelt next to them. O'Bannon looked over at her. The girl stared at her with worry in her eyes. And something else.

Horror.

"Merlin's beard, Jimmy, you're a mess. What happened to you?"

"He . . . he Crucioed me." His voice sounded hoarse. "Mather Crucioed me."

Rosa gasped and hugged him. "Oh my God. Oh, Jimmy."

"I never . . . the pain . . . Mather."

"Merak Mather? Is that really him back there?"

Bewilderment swept over O'Bannon. How could Rosa not recognize the prick they had to put up with for seven years at Salem? The sick bastard who wanted to rape her and Mireet!

He looked over Rosa's shoulder at Mather, lying still on the ground. His eyes widened at the sight.

Merak Mather had no face. What had been his face was now a red, pulpy mess of blood and flesh.

Nausea burned in his stomach.

_Oh my God. _I _did that?_

_He deserved it._

_But I . . . I mean, with my own hands I . . ._

It came back to him. He remembered his feelings. That all he'd been at the time. Pure emotions. Dark emotions. All rational thought, all civilized behavior had been taken over by a hatred and fury. For a second he wondered if what he experienced was similar to the emotional state of a werewolf.

He trembled and hugged Rosa tighter, his eyes still fixed on the mutilated corpse of his former classmate.

_**TO BE CONTINUED**_


	25. Surprising Developments

**CHAPTER 25: SURPRISING DEVELOPMENTS**

* * *

_LOCATION: Outside Proctor, Vermont, USA._

_TIME FRAME: May 3rd, 10:30 a.m. Local Time, during "Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows."_

* * *

_Focus, Jimmy. Focus._

O'Bannon snorted as he marched through the lush green forest. His eyes flickered back and forth, searching for any potential threats.

His mind, however, was on other things. Specifically, the battle with the Death Eaters a couple nights ago.

His shoulders tensed as the images bombarded his mind's eye. Icy pricks crept up his spine. He could clearly see Merak Mather's body lying on the ground, his face resembling bloody ground meat.

_I did that. My God, I really did that._

He shut his eyes, his face scrunching up, trying to rid the memory of Mather's corpse from his mind. After a loud exhale, he checked over his shoulder. The rest of the group kept pace with him.

He winced as his eyes ran over the children. So many of them looked thin. Too thin. Including Holly. Worry swelled within him. Now that Mireet couldn't bring them food anymore, they'd have to hunt and forage all the time. To make matters worse, the boys' tent had been destroyed during the battle, so they all had to share a single tent now, and twenty-two people made for a very crowded tent, even a magical one. Plus, the boys' tent had contained their wizarding radio, so there went all their contact with the outside world.

Part of O'Bannon was glad they didn't have the radio anymore. Looking at it would only remind him of Rana.

He tried to recall a memory from their time together at Salem. But whenever a mental picture of their first kiss or one of her enthusiastic Quidditch discussions began to form, his imagination turned on him, creating horrific images based on what Merak had told him had happened to Rana and her parents.

His jaw clenched. Would that be the only way he would think of Rana from now on?

O'Bannon caught Rosa fixing a concerned gaze at him. He sighed and turned away. The last thing he needed was Rosa trying to get him to open up about that night. He knew he could brush her off with a flat, "I'm fine," for only so long before she forced the issue. But he didn't want to talk about it. He couldn't.

His shoulders sagged as he kept walking. Rosa probably thought the act of killing Mather itself was what bothered him. But she'd be wrong. O'Bannon didn't feel any sympathy for Mather, not after the two Cruciatus Curses, and not after declaring his sick desire to rape and kill women he cared about. If he did feel any emotion toward Mather, it was anger. Anger at making him do what he did. He'd killed other Death Eaters before Mather, true. But that night, something happened that scared him to his core.

He lost control.

A shiver went through him. Hadn't he always stressed the importance of keeping control of your emotions during a game, or more importantly, during a battle. It was even more important for a leader. Leaders always had to be in control, always had to be a rock of stability, even if the world around them descended into chaos.

But his control abandoned him. He let his emotions, primal, bestial emotions, take him over.

_What if it happens again?_

He knew he had a temper. What if he couldn't control it again and flew into a blind rage? What if next time he hurt, or God forbid killed, someone who wasn't a sick bastard like Mather? What if it was someone close to him? Rosa. Jared. Artimus. His parents.

Mireet.

Even worse, he couldn't talk to anyone about it. Who would follow a leader who couldn't stay in control of himself?

"What's that?" Madson spoke up.

O'Bannon turned around and stopped. Everyone else halted and looked around.

"You hear something, Madson?" Jared asked.

"Yeah." The boy lifted his head. "Listen."

O'Bannon concentrated. He heard the twitters of birds nearby – _Food. _A gentle breeze rustled some leaves.

And a muffled pop sounded in the distance. Another followed seconds later. And another.

"Are those explosions?" Mireet wondered aloud.

"Maybe the Death Eaters are attacking someone," offered Daedalus.

"I don't think so." Rosa took a few steps away from the group, staring off in the direction of the muffled pops. "They sound like . . . fireworks."

"Fireworks?" Artimus' brow furrowed. "Why would anyone be lighting off fireworks these days?"

O'Bannon wondered the same things. He couldn't imagine the Death Eaters letting something like that go on for long. Fireworks meant celebration, joy and fun. Concepts alien to You-Know-Who's gang . . . unless those S. considered murder and torture fun.

The fireworks continued for another five minutes. O'Bannon took out his magical map and scanned it for any nearby towns. The small wizarding community of Pennyfeather lay about fifteen miles to the west.

He looked up and still heard fireworks. Surely the Death Eaters would have put a stop to this by now.

And why set off fireworks in the morning? People usually did that during the night.

"We better check this out." O'Bannon folded the map and stuffed it in his pocket. "Rosa, you're with me. The rest of you, stay here. Standard drill. If we're not back in an hour, get out of here."

"Be careful, Jimmy." Worry flashed over Mireet's face. She then glanced at Rosa. "Both of you."

He nodded at her, then looked to Rosa. Seconds later, the two Apparated.

Noise surrounded them the moment they Disapparated. Deep, drum-like explosions filled the air, mixed with raucous cheering.

O'Bannon and Rosa exchanged curious looks. They peered around the large tree they Disapparated behind. A small village made up of several tall, wooden towers with pointed roofs lay before them. Dozens of people gathered in the main dirt road, jumping around and hugging and shouting and looking . . . happy. He couldn't remember the last time he'd seen people so happy.

"What the hell's all this about?" O'Bannon cranked an eyebrow. He held his breath and stared at the ground. Images formed in his mind, ones he remembered from some TV documentary he saw. It was a scene like this, on a larger scale, in black and white, at New York's Time Square. The day the Second World War ended.

_No. Could it . . .?_

He whipped his head to Rosa. "Rosa. You don't think . . ." He hesitated to say it, as if giving voice to his thoughts would jinx it. "You think they're celebrating because . . . the war's over?"

Rosa stiffened. She, too, seemed afraid to say it. This war had lasted almost three years. How could it suddenly be over?

"We . . . Let's not jump to any conclusions. We gotta find out for sure."

"How? We can't just waltz over there and ask 'em? Not with the Death Eaters looking for us."

Rosa's head tilted to the left. "Actually, we can."

"What?"

"Remember when you raided the supply base at Staley's End? You brought back some Polyjuice Potion. All we have to do is stun a couple people, get their hairs, and we can blend in no problem."

O'Bannon bit his lip. It sounded risky. Then again, the last nine months had been nothing but risky. And if the war was truly over, they had to find out.

They Apparated back to the others and told them what they discovered at Pennyfeather, as well as their plan to infiltrate the little town. The pair each got a goblet of Polyjuice Potion and Apparated back to Pennyfeather. They scanned for any wards around the town, and surprisingly, found none. The pair dashed around the edge of town and turned toward a dirt alleyway between two of the wooden towers. The cheering went on, as did the fireworks.

"So what now?" O'Bannon said as he and Rosa peered out from behind one of the towers.

"Hide out in the alley, wait for a couple people to come by, then stun 'em and take their hair. It might be easy with all the celebration going on. It doesn't look like these people are paying a lot of attention to security."

O'Bannon nodded. "I'm down with that."

They started into the alley.

Two figures appeared at the other end; a tall lanky man with dark hair and angular features, and a slender woman with curly blond hair and a clear round face. They dashed into the alley, both laughing.

O'Bannon and Rosa jumped back behind the tower. He peered out and saw the couple wrap their arms around each other and kiss deeply. Both looked slightly older than Rosa and him.

"I think we have some suitable candidates here," he said.

Rosa nodded. "I agree. Body-Bind Curse?"

"Sounds good to me." That particular curse was relatively painless.

He checked the couple again. They continued kissing, their hands roaming up and down their bodies.

"Sorry, guys." O'Bannon frowned as he gazed at the young couple. He then turned to Rosa and nodded.

They leapt into the open. _"Petrificus Totalus!" _

The kissing couple went rigid. Still locked in an embraced, they toppled over and hit the ground with a _thud._ O'Bannon took in the sight, the girl lying on top of the guy, frozen in their kissing and groping.

A snorting laugh escaped his throat.

Rosa shot him an annoyed look. "Get your mind out of the gutter."

"You first."

She groaned and levitated the couple over to them. Once they were behind the tower, Rosa plucked a hair from the girl, while O'Bannon did the same with the guy. He picked up his goblet of Polyjuice Potion and dropped the hair in it. The thick concoction hissed and boiled and turned into the color of tar.

O'Bannon grimaced. Harry Potter and Ron Weasley had told him about their experience with Polyjuice Potion during the pair's Second Year at Hogwarts. According to them, the stuff didn't taste any better than it looked. And it looked disgusting. Smelled disgusting, too.

Rosa's face twisted as she stared at her goblet. She then looked over to O'Bannon, reluctance on her face.

He sighed and shrugged. "Let's just get it over with."

Rosa grunted in response.

O'Bannon took a deep breath and stared hard at the dark, lumpy mass. He raised the goblet to his lips and started drinking.

Ron was spot on when he told him the stuff tasted like vomit.

Actually, it tasted worse than vomit.

The stuff burned and slithered down his throat and into his stomach. He almost spat it out, but forced himself to keep drinking until he emptied the goblet.

He doubled over, mouth wide open. He braced himself to start puking, but only emitted dry heaves.

His heart beat faster as his body grew soft and bubbly. He nearly gasped as his hands and fingers narrowed. His face expanded and contracted. For a moment, he feared he'd melt into a puddle.

The sensation passed. He straightened up, breathing deep. Rosa also started to straighten. His eyes widened when he saw her in her new body. She turned to him and swallowed.

"Well, how do I look?" Rosa's voice sounded more high-pitched and . . . airy. It reminded him a little of Lavender Brown's voice, minus the British accent.

O'Bannon grinned at her. "You look good as a blond." He drew his head back in surprise. His voice sounded lighter than normal.

"Hm." She shook his head. "There's only one blond you should be interested in."

He frowned. Now was not the time for Rosa to lecture him about his love life . . . again.

"C'mon. Let's get their clothes and hit the street. We only got an hour before this stuff wears off."

They stripped the kissing couple and put on their clothes, then headed down the alley and into the midst of a wild celebration. A heavyset, middle-aged man slapped both their shoulders, laughing uncontrollably. A redheaded young woman them walked past and winked. "I thought you two would be in that alley for hours."

O'Bannon and Rosa smiled and nodded.

"Hold my hand," Rosa said out the corner of her mouth.

"What?"

"These two are supposed to be a couple, so we better act like one. No, on second thought. Put your arm around me. And smile and laugh. We have to blend in."

O'Bannon snaked an arm around Rosa. She hugged him around the waist and leaned against him, giggling loudly. He started laughing and pumping a fist into the air. It didn't take long before he didn't have to pretend to be so happy. The celebratory mood around him was infectious.

A fiery rocket whistled near them, streaking into the air. It burst into a shower of green and white sparks that took the shape of a top. It spun around and loosed jets of colorful light.

"Thank Merlin it's over." A plump, gray-haired woman threw her arms around him and Rosa. She hugged them tight, sobbing. "It's over. I never thought I'd live to see it. It's really over."

His heart raced. Tingles surged through him. _Is it true?_

"I know." He patted the old witch on the back. "Um, can you believe how it happened?"

"I know, I know. Bless Harry Potter. Bless that wonderful child. He did it again. And this time, that evil bastard is gone for good."

O'Bannon's legs quaked. For a moment he feared he'd collapse. _Harry killed Voldemort? _Part of him was afraid to believe it. The war had consumed his life for three years. Could it be over just like that?

The old witch put one hand on his cheek, and the other on Rosa's. "You can have a future. You two can have a future."

She kissed them on the cheek and headed off, still crying tears of joy.

O'Bannon spun around to face Rosa. "Oh my God. Oh my God, I don't believe this. You-Know-Who's dead?" He pressed his hands against his head. It took him a moment to catch his breath. "It's over. The war's over."

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves," Rosa said, though her new Polyjuice Potion-spawned face registered surprise. "Let's talk to a few more people."

They walked through the dancing and cheering crowd. A thin, bald wizard talked excitedly to another wizard. "I gonna tell my wife we have to have another child, and I'm gonna name him Harry."

"What if it's a girl?"

"I'm still gonna name her Harry!"

A bole-legged man with powder white hair bounded out of a nearby house. "I just got word! The Death Eaters are pulling out of towns all over Vermont and New Hampshire and Maine!"

A thunderous ovation went up from the crowd. O'Bannon fought through his shock and cheered as well. He turned to Rosa, who smiled even though moisture filled her eyes. That look alone proved to him she didn't need any more convincing.

"It's over. Oh my God. It's over!"

He flung his arms around Rosa and lifted her off the ground, swinging her completely around. She laughed and cried at the same time.

"We gotta get back to the others," he spoke fast as he lowered Rosa to the ground. "We gotta tell 'em the good news. Oh my God. I can't believe it's over."

Rosa nodded and wiped her teary eyes.

They started back down the road, holding hands and almost skipping.

"Raymond! Matilda!" someone called out.

They kept going. O'Bannon picked up his pace. He couldn't wait to get to the alley and Apparate back to the others. They would go out of their minds when they heard –

"Raymond! Matilda! Where are you two going!" The demanding voice sounded closer.

O'Bannon turned around. Two people stalked toward them, one a lean wizard with a salt and pepper beard, the other a short, stocky witch with stringy brown hair.

He tensed. _Uh-oh. We're Raymond and Matilda._

"Hi . . . guys. What's up?"

The man stopped inches away, scowling at them. "You two will have plenty of time to get into each other's robes later. We just received a general recall for all Guild members."

"The Guild?" O'Bannon sounded more surprised than he wanted.

"Yes, the Guild." The man eyed them suspiciously. His hand moved inside his robes. "Where in Pennyfeather did you have your first kiss?"

O'Bannon swallowed. They were busted.

The wizard pulled out his wand. So did the witch.

"Wait! Wait! Wait!" He held up his hand. "I'm Jimmy O'Bannon. This is Rosa Infante. We drank Polyjuice Potion so we could blend in here and find out what's going on."

"Why would you need to blend in with the townspeople?" asked the witch, her wand pointed at them.

"Look, we've been up in the mountains with no way of knowing what the hell's going on. We heard the fireworks and came here to check it out. We didn't know what was going on, and we sure as hell couldn't just waltz into town with the Death Eaters offering a big reward for us."

"What about Raymond and Matilda?" This from the wizard. "What did you do to them?"

"They're behind that building." Rosa pointed to the tower nearby. "They're fine. We just used a Body-Bind Curse on them so we could get their hair."

The wizard and witch looked at one another. After several long seconds, the wizard turned back to them. "Hand over your wands and follow us. We're going to get this straightened out."

Both O'Bannon and Rosa surrendered their wands and walked ahead of the two Guild members, who hid their wands behind their robes.

"I can't believe I turned myself into a woman named Matlida," Rosa grumbled to him. "That's the kind of name you give to some eighty-year-old aunt who pinches your cheeks until they bleed."

"Yeah, life is so tough for you, isn't it?"

Rosa made a face at him as they left the festive crowd behind.

"To your right," the wizard directed him.

He and Rosa headed to a squat log cabin. Sobbing from across the street caught his attention. O'Bannon turned his head. His eyes widened.

A witch knelt on the ground, convulsing with sobs. Two other witches stood over her, anger lines etched in both their faces. One witch used her wand to slowly shave the crying woman bald. The other waved her wand and conjured wriggling green snakes to replace the woman's hair. O'Bannon also noticed a glowing red snake tattoo stretching across the crying witch's forehead.

"What going on over there?" He nodded toward the witches.

The wizard followed O'Bannon's gaze. "She was a collaborator. Screwed every Death Eater that came through town. Told them anything she thought they might want to hear. Inside."

They stepped onto the porch and went inside. The two Guild members took them down to the basement, where eight other witches and wizards stood around. O'Bannon and Rosa were marched in front of a fireplace, one that looked like it had been built in a hurry. The wizard grabbed some Floo powder from a nearby urn and tossed it into the fire. Green flames gushed from the fireplace. A face took form, one with dark features and a beard.

"Sir, we picked up these two outside, said they drank Polyjuice Potion to look like two of our operatives. They claim to be Jimmy O'Bannon and your daughter."

"What!" Rosa whipped her head toward O'Bannon. Her jaw dropped open. She hurried forward. Every witch and wizard gripped their wand nervously.

"Dad? Dad!" She got on her knees and stared at the face in the fire. "Dad, it's me. It's really me."

A pause. The face in the flames spoke. "If you are Rosa, you'll know this. When you were ten, how long did I ground you when you used one of your grandmother's sewing needles to pierce your ears?"

Rosa grinned wide. "Two weeks. And I was eight at the time, not ten."

A huge smile formed on Mr. Infante's face. He then looked past his daughter to O'Bannon.

"Jimmy. What year did Roy Bark make the shot that won the Stanley Cup?"

O'Bannon couldn't help but chuckle. "That was the 1970 Stanley Cup Finals, Bruins over the Blues in four games. And it was Bobby Orr who made 'The Shot.' Oh yeah, and it's Ray Bourque, not Roy Bark."

Mr. Infante's smile grew broader. "Stand back, everyone."

The face vanished from the flames. Rosa and the wizard stepped back.

A minute later green flames roared from the fireplace. Out of them stepped Cesario Infante.

"Dad!" Rosa charged at him and threw her arms around him.

"Rosa." Mr. Infante embraced his daughter and kissed the top of her head. Rosa shook with a sob.

O'Bannon's throat clenched. Tears stung his eyes as he watched the surprise reunion.

"I missed you," Mr. Infante whispered to Rosa. "I missed you so much. Merlin's beard, I love you."

"I love you too, Dad." Rosa's voice cracked as she hugged him tighter. "What about Mom? Is she okay? And Uncle Irving? And Esteban and . . ."

"They're all fine. In fact, they're all on the other side of the Floo portal. They're going to be so excited to see you."

Rosa sobbed again.

"What about Jared? Is he all right? And Artimus and the children?"

"They're fine, too." O'Bannon answered. "They're all fine. And so's Mireet. She joined us over a week ago."

"Mireet Miradeaux?" Mr. Infante's eyes widened in surprise as he continued to hold Rosa. "Thank Merlin for that. We feared the worst when we learned she disappeared." He then smiled at O'Bannon. "It's good to see you again, Jimmy."

"You too, Mr. Infante."

He finally released his daughter and looked at all the wizards and witches around him. "They're fine. This really is Jimmy O'Bannon and my daughter."

Everyone in the basement relaxed. The wizard who had captured them returned their wands.

"My apologies," he said to both of them. "But you can't be too cautious these days."

"No need to apologize." O'Bannon shook his head. "We understand."

"It's really true, Dad?" Rosa walked up to her father. "The war's over? Harry really killed You-Know-Who?"

"Yes he did. Four of our embassy contacts in Washington confirmed it. We don't have a lot of details, but we do know it happened during a huge battle at Hogwarts."

Intense cold gripped O'Bannon. He couldn't breathe as dread filled his soul.

"Was . . . was . . . do they know who was killed?" His muscles tightened, bracing for the worst.

Mr. Infante shook his head. "I'm sorry, Jimmy. We don't have specific names."

He swallowed. He didn't know which was worse. Knowing which of his British friends were dead, or not knowing who had died and being tortured by never-ending worry.

"So it's all over," Rosa muttered. O'Bannon noted the worried look on her face and in her eyes. He knew which of the Brits would be first and foremost on her mind. Ginny Weasley, who she became close friends with, and of course, George Weasley.

"Not quite," answered Mr. Infante. "We have reports that Death Eaters all over the country are converging on Helghorst Island. Maybe to reorganize, maybe to make a final stand, maybe just to mourn You-Know-Who's death. It really doesn't matter to me. We're making plans to launch an attack on Helghorst Island as soon as possible. We're going to finally finish off these bastards."

_**TO BE CONTINUED**_


	26. Fortress Of Steel

**CHAPTER 26: FORTRESS OF STEEL**

* * *

O'Bannon emerged from the green flames, followed by Rosa, Jared, Artimus, Mireet and the children. He took a few more steps before stopping and gazing around, his wide eyes taking in everything.

The Floo portal had deposited him and the others into a high-ceilinged cave, its rock walls ringed with a hundred burning torches. He noticed large maps with moving symbols hanging from the rock walls. Tables, desks and bookshelves were spread throughout the cave, along with dozens of wizards and witches, all with their eyes turned toward him.

"Rosa! Jared!" A slender, striking woman with long black hair broke from the crowd and hurried toward them.

"Mom!"

"Aunt Adelaide!"

Rosa, Jared and Mrs. Infante converged in one massive hug.

Two more wizards broke from the crowd, one thickly-built and balding, the other tall and muscular with a mane of black hair.

Mr. Diaz and Esteban Diaz joined in the group hug. O'Bannon stood back and watched, his throat constricting when he took note of one important person missing from this reunion.

Liana Diaz.

"Jimmy. Artimus. Thank Merlin you two are all right." Mrs. Infante hugged and kissed them on the cheek. "And Mireet! I was afraid the Death Eaters got you. Thank Merlin you're alive." She hugged the tall French witch.

"Jimmy. Good to see you." Mr. Diaz pumped O'Bannon's hand and clasped his shoulder.

"You too, Mr. Diaz." He bit his lower lip as he studied the man's face. Mr. Diaz might be smiling, but his eyes told a different story. One of sorrow, of loss, of pain.

"I'm, uh . . ." He was afraid to say it, fearful he might re-open old wounds. But how could he not say anything after all this family had done for him? "I'm really sorry about Mrs. Diaz. She was a great woman."

Mr. Diaz's jaw trembled as he fought to maintain his smile. "Yes, Jimmy. Yes, she was. Thank you."

He gave his hand another shake before moving on to greet Artimus.

"Kyon?" A female voice drew his attention. O'Bannon looked left and saw a short Asian witch with black shoulder-length hair. She trembled as she stared at the children, her eyes tearing up. "Kyon!"

"Mom!" Kyon darted toward her. The Asian woman threw her arms around Kyon and sobbed uncontrollably. "Oh Merlin, I missed you. I missed you so much, baby."

O'Bannon's neck muscles clenched. He turned away, fighting to keep his tears from spilling. That's when he saw Esteban approaching him.

"Good job, Jimmy." He slapped him on the shoulder. "You brought them all home alive and well."

"Yeah. Yeah I did." He glanced back at Kyon and her mother, who were still hugging. "Are any more parents here?"

"No." Esteban shook his head. "But we are getting messages to them. They should be here soon. The only reason Kyon's mother is here is because she helped set up the Guild's secret Floo Network."

O'Bannon nodded. He remembered Kyon's mother had been a Floo Network administrator for the Department of Magic.

"Say, where's Oriana at?" He referred to Esteban's wife.

"She's at one of our safe houses in Ohio with Rodolfo. With this battle coming up, I wasn't about to risk our son becoming an orphan at four-years-old. It took some arguing, but I managed to convince her to sit this one out and look after him."

"Hey, you two." Mr. Infante strode over to them. "Much as I wish this reunion could go on a bit longer, we have a job to do. Follow me."

O'Bannon nodded. "You got it. Just give me one second."

He headed over to the children, eyeing Daedalus in particular. "Daedalus. I need you to look after everyone. I have to go with Mr. Infante and help him with some things."

"What kind of things?" Deanna Jackson asked.

He exhaled slowly. "The Death Eaters are holed up on Helghorst Island. We're gonna head over there and kick their sorry asses once and for all."

"Be careful, Coach Jimmy." Holly hurried forward and hugged him tight. The other kids gave him a chorus of "good lucks" and "be carefuls."

A bit reluctantly, he pried Holly off him and rejoined Rosa, Jared, Artimus and Mireet. They followed the Infantes, Mr. Diaz and Esteban out of the cave and walked through several winding, well-lit rock corridors. Mr. Infante waved his wand. An ethereal picture floated in front of them as they walked, one of a craggy island with jagged rock battlements and carved skulls and snakes.

"Is that Helghorst Island?" asked Artimus.

"It is indeed. And now that you five are here, I'm giving you an important role to play in our attack."

O'Bannon took a deep breath and held it. Both anxiety and anticipation swirled within him.

"This will be your target." Mr. Infante pointed his wand to a spiraling rock formation on the eastern edge of the island. A red circle appeared around it. "It's one of the many battlements surrounding Helghorst Island. You'll be part of an assault group of Guild members whose job it is to secure it. When you've done that, you'll proceed down the battlement and make your way through the corridors beneath the island, clearing them of any enemy forces you may encounter. Your objective is here." Another red circle appeared around the rock skull in the middle of the island. "This is where we believe the leadership for You-Know-Who's forces in America are."

"Got it." O'Bannon looked to his friends. They all nodded their understanding.

Mr. Infante turned to them. "I'm going to be honest with you all. I've been planning this second assault on Helghorst Island for some time. I anticipated this attack to commence toward the end of summer, to ensure we had sufficient numbers of well-trained wizards and witches to carry it out. But with You-Know-Who's death, I feel we need to go right now with the forces available. The Death Eaters are likely demoralized, and they have a leadership vacuum at the very top. We can't afford to wait and have them reorganize, or worse, have one of them decide he or she is going to step in and take over for their fallen leader. If we're lucky, they might already be squabbling over who becomes the new Dark Lord." He spat out the last two words. "Armies with a lot of dissension in the ranks don't fight very effectively."

"How are we as far as numbers go?" Rosa asked.

"Right now, we've pooled together between sixty to sixty-five percent of the witches and wizards I envisioned for this attack. It'll have to do. The good news is, we'll have a big . . . equalizer on our side."

"Equalizer?" Jared furrowed his brow. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You'll see." Mr. Infante shot his nephew a sly grin.

"So who's leading our group?" O'Bannon asked.

Mr. Infante stopped and turned around, staring right at him. "You are, Jimmy."

"Me?"

Mr. Infante looked surprised by his response. "Why would I pick anyone else? You've already proven yourself a more than capable warrior and leader. Merlin's beard, you spent nine months in the mountains with eighteen children avoiding You-Know-Who's forces, and brought them all back alive. And my daughter and nephew have told me point blank they would follow you into Hell itself without question. There aren't many people in this world they trust to that extent."

O'Bannon turned around and saw Rosa and Jared staring back at him with confident expressions.

"It's like I told you two years ago when we were crossing the English Channel," said Rosa. "You're our leader, Jimmy. You've earned our respect and our trust."

"Ditto to that." Jared nodded.

"I'm with you, Jimmy." Artimus spoke with a hitherto confidence to his voice.

"As am I." Mireet stepped forward. "Jimmy, I trust you with my very life."

He swallowed, his jaw tightening. A swooping sensation went through his chest. He couldn't put into words how privileged he felt to have four people like this as his closest friends in the world.

"Thanks, guys." He needed a couple deep breaths to regain his composure before turning back to Mr. Infante. "All right. I'm your man. I just hope the rest of this group doesn't mind taking orders from a nineteen-year-old punk-ass kid."

Mr. Infante grinned and clamped a hand on his shoulder. "Trust me. I don't think there's anyone else better suited to lead this group."

Rosa's father led them further down the corridor. They stopped at an arched entry way. A cacophony of voices filtered from it.

"Your assault group is in there. Better go in there and get acquainted. Or maybe I should say, _re-_acquainted."

O'Bannon raised an eyebrow at Mr. Infante's statement. What the heck did he mean by that?

He walked past him and into the room, followed by Rosa, Jared, Artimus and Mireet. He saw several wizards and witches sitting on benches or on the floor, some checking their brooms, others practicing offensive and defensive spells. The vast majority appeared to be around his age.

O'Bannon halted less than a quarter of the way into the room, frozen by shock. Several heads turned his way, surprise exploding across their faces.

Faces he recognized.

"Jimmy?" A stocky black boy rose to his feet. "No way. Jimmy O'Bannon? And Merlin's beard, Jared? Rosa? Artimus?"

"Holy crap!" Jared blurted. "Dante?"

Dante Marshall, a former member of the Blazenrowe Hall hockey team, beamed at them. "I don't believe it. I don't freakin' believe it!" He bounded over to them, hugging them and slapping them on the back. "You're alive! I never thought I'd see you guys again!"

A wave of people swarmed over them. The quartet was caught up in a whirlwind of hugs and handshakes and slaps to the back. O'Bannon made a mental checklist of all his former Salem Witches Institute classmates who greeted him. Gregory Lancemore. Penelope Hale. Ursa Oberlin. Abigail Aguirre. Eli Witting. Darius Forten. Beatrice Hill. Evelyn McAllister. Lia Ngor. Horace Harkington. Terrance Kirby. Aquila Allstadt. Mario Hernandez. Ira Ixler.

"I don't believe it." Rosa spun around, her mouth agape. "You guys are all in the Guild of the Light?"

"Those Death Eater sons-of-bitches killed my mother and my little brother." Gregory scowled. "I want a piece of their asses."

"Me too." This from Ursa. "I joined after . . . after they killed Cindy."

O'Bannon lowered his eyes for a moment, his heart going out to Ursa. She and Cindy had been roommates their entire seven years at Salem.

"Man, I never expected to see you guys." Eli rotated his head to take in the quartet. "I heard you four were in the Appalachians with a bunch of kids, keeping them away from the Death Eaters."

Eli and a few other ex-classmates wanted more details of their nine months on the run.

"Wait a sec." Dante shushed them. "First, I wanna know if all that other stuff is true."

"What other stuff?" O'Bannon asked.

"Rosa's parents told us what you've been doing over the last three years. They say you've been working for the Guild of the Light _before _you even graduated."

"You guys really fought Death Eaters in Ovenderburg?" Evelyn wanted to know.

"And you went to England and fought alongside Harry Potter?" Terrance gawked at him. "Harry _Freakin' _Potter!"

"Yeah." Rosa nodded. "It's all true."

Everyone stared at the quartet in awe.

"This is incredible." Penelope shook her head. "All the time we were stuck in Potions and Transfiguration Classes, you guys were running around saving the world."

O'Bannon frowned. "Believe me, it's not as cool and fun as it sounds."

A few of his former classmates averted their eyes momentarily.

"So, uh, who's the new addition to your group?" Gregory nodded to Mireet.

"Oh. This is Mireet Miradeaux." O'Bannon pointed a hand toward her. "She's with France's version of the Guild of the Light. She worked out of the French Embassy, running supplies to us in the mountains and maintaining lines of communications between here and Europe."

"Mireet Miradeaux?" Dante's face scrunched. Suddenly he snapped his fingers. "Oh wait a minute. You're the one Jimmy took to that dance at Hogwarts, right?"

"The Yule Ball. _Oui, _Jimmy and I attended it together."

Horace and Ira's jaws dropped. They looked to one another, then to Mireet, then back to one another, uttering a silent, "Whoa!"

"So you're gonna be part of this attack on Helghorst Island?" Aquila stepped closer to O'Bannon.

"Yeah, we are. Mr. Infante assigned us a battlement on the eastern edge of the island to secure. And . . . he wants me to lead you guys."

Silence fell over the group. O'Bannon held his breath as he gazed at the Salem alumni, studying their reactions. Some looked surprised, a few looked doubtful. Others had unreadable expressions.

His muscles knotted with worry. He knew Rosa, Jared, Artimus and Mireet would follow him. They'd seen him in action before. But not the others. To people like Dante and Gregory and Ursa and Penelope, he had just been one of their classmates. It wasn't like he had formed a secret student army like Harry had, or had the moniker of "The Chosen One" slapped on him. To these people, he was just plain old Jimmy O'Bannon. What reason did they have to follow him into battle?

"You know I'm with you, Jimmy." Dante nodded emphatically. Ursa and Darius also nodded.

"I'm cool with that," said Terrance. "I figure anyone who fought with Harry Potter must know what he's doing."

More Salem graduates nodded.

Aquila squared his shoulders and stepped in front of him. The former captain of the Ardenturo Hall hockey team locked eyes with O'Bannon. "Jimmy, I know yeah weren't big-time buddies or anything when we were at Salem. But I always respected you as an opponent on the ice. And if everything the Infantes said about you is true, I'll follow you."

"That goes double for me," said Gregory, who also had leadership experience at Salem as the captain of the Blazenrowe Hall Quidditch team.

O'Bannon fought a losing battle to keep a huge smile off his face. "Thanks, guys. That means a lot."

"So what's the plan, boss man?" asked Dante.

He straightened his back, a mask of seriousness forming on his face. "All right. Gather round everyone."

He waited for the Salem alumni to encircle him before continuing. "Now, how many of you have seen combat?"

A few hands went up. Ursa, Gregory, Penelope, Aquila, Eli and a handful of others he didn't recognize.

"Okay. For you first-timers, this is what you can expect. Combat is chaotic. You're going to have spells and curses flying all around you. It's going to be fast, loud, and scary. You're going to be more scared than you've ever been in your life. But you're going to have to keep that fear under control. I know that's easier said than done, but you have to do it. If you let fear rule you, you're dead. Even worse, you're going to get other people around you killed. If you feel fear starting to take control of you, if you start to doubt you can fight Death Eaters, I want you to think of all the friends and family and classmates we've lost over the past year. I want you to think about Cindy Walker, who the Death Eaters murdered because they didn't think a Muggle-born should be our class Valedictorian. I want you to think of the Pinders, who were murdered because they dared play a Muggle game at Salem. I want you to think about Mister Lymstock, who was murdered for simply teaching you guys about the Muggle World at Salem. I want you to think of Artimus' brother, Hector, and Jared's mother, and our old Potions teacher Mister Hillenbrand, who died because they believed freedom is worth fighting for. I want you to think of . . . of Rana Rollingsworth, who died along with her parents because they wanted to inspire hope at a time when the world had gone to hell. Think about them, and use their sacrifices for your strength."

The Salem graduates stared at him, many with sober expressions.

After several seconds of silence, Gregory spoke. "So what do you want us to do?"

O'Bannon bit down on his lip, a plan already taking shape. "We're going in in two groups. The first one will be our air support, and that will be made up of all our former Quidditch players, since you guys are obviously the best flyers we have. Gregory, I'm putting you in charge of that group."

Gregory nodded.

O'Bannon then looked over his shoulder. "Mireet. I'm putting you with the air support group."

She nodded.

"You play?" Gregory looked at her.

"_Oui. _I was a beater for my team at Beauxbatons."

"What about us non-Quidditch types?" Aquila asked.

"You're with the four of us." He swept his hand to take in Rosa, Jared and Artimus. "We'll be the assault group. While Gregory and his group cover us from any airborne Death Eaters, we'll secure the battlement, make our way inside the base, and head for the central part of the island. That's where the Guild believes the American Death Eaters' inner circle is. We take them out, and any other Death Eaters there, we break the back of You-Know-Who's forces in the U.S."

Several "Yeahs" went up from the ex-Salem students.

"I'm not gonna lie to you. This won't be easy. It looks like we're going to be outnumbered, and you can bet the Death Eaters will throw everything they've got at us. But we've got momentum on our side. You-Know-Who is dead. That's gotta demoralize those S.. Now those Death Eaters may be more experienced than us, but dammit, we're graduates of the Salem Witches Institute. We went to the oldest and best magical school in the United States of America. We were taught by some of the best wizards and witches in the world. We can do this."

The "Yeahs" from his former classmates grew louder.

"C'mon! Bring it in, guys!"

Everyone crowded around O'Bannon, arms raised to form a bunched up, human pyramid.

"Victory on three! One, two, three . . ."

"VICTORY!"

The cheer was followed by high-fives and hugs.

O'Bannon just finished slapping hands with Mario when a haughty-looking girl with curly long brown hair sidled up next to him. "Jimmy?"

He turned to face Beatrice Hill. His chest tightened. Beatrice had been good friends with Rana.

"I, um, I just wanted to tell you I'm sorry about what happened to Rana." She swallowed, moisture gathering in her eyes. "I know you really cared about her, and I'm . . . I'm sorry I acted like such a bitch when you guys started going out."

He smiled and placed a gentle hand on Beatrice's shoulder. "You don't have anything to apologize for, Bea. That damn Projection Potion messed us all up."

"I know, but . . . she really did like you, Jimmy. A lot. I wish . . . Merlin, I miss her."

"So do I." His voice sounded raspy. Merak Mather's words oozed through his mind, along with what he did to the sick prick. Somehow, he suppressed a shiver.

Beatrice leaned forward and hugged him. O'Bannon returned the comforting embrace.

"We're gonna make 'em pay for what they did to Rana," he whispered into Beatrice's ear. "For what they did to everyone."

Beatrice nodded against his chest.

"Okay, everyone!"

All heads turned to the archway, where the Infantes, Mr. Diaz and Esteban stood.

"It's time," said Rosa's father. "Grab your brooms and make your way to the ship. Rosa, Jared, Jimmy, Art, Mireet. I have spare brooms for you on the ship."

"Ship?" O'Bannon furrowed his brow. "What ship?"

Gregory slapped his shoulder. "You'll see. I gotta tell you, even as a pureblood, I'm impressed with that thing."

A quizzical look fell over O'Bannon's face. He was about to ask his old classmate what he meant by that, but from Gregory's expression, the "Ladies Man of Salem" was determined to make this a surprise for him.

The group followed the Infante/Diaz clan down more rock corridors. After a couple minutes O'Bannon noticed another arched entryway in front of him, this one leading to a large pool of water.

"I told you we had an equalizer for this battle," Mr. Infante said over his shoulder to the quartet and Mireet. "Well, here it is."

O'Bannon stepped into the cavern. He skidded to a halt, his eyes and mouth widened.

"Merlin's beard," Artimus uttered in a stunned whisper.

"Whoa." Jared gawked at the sight before him. "That thing is huge."

"What is it?" Mireet wondered aloud.

O'Bannon took another step forward, his unblinking eyes locked on the massive ship. He took in the castle-like superstructure, the elongated bow and the three massive turrets, two in front and one in the back, each sprouting three large guns.

"It's a battleship. An honest-to-God straight out of World War Two Muggle battleship."

"We're using this to attack Helghorst Island?" Rosa turned to her father.

"Considering all the Muggles You-Know-Who's murderers have killed, the Muggle President wanted to make some contribution to this war."

"But, Muggle weapons against magic?" Artimus looked unconvinced using this battleship was a good idea. O'Bannon wondered at that, too.

Artimus continued. "I mean, what chance will this ship have?"

"Oh we've made some . . . improvements to it." Mrs. Infante sported an elfish grin. "We cast all sorts of defensive spells around it to make it more resistant to magical attacks. We also replaced the regular explosives the Muggles use in their shells with Blancosflame to make them more effective against magical targets."

O'Bannon remembered Blancosflame from his Defense Against the Dark Arts Class. It produced brilliant white flames that could incinerate most objects spawned by Dark Magic.

"How . . . how did you even get this thing here?" O'Bannon rotated his head, taking in the large, watery cavern.

"It took a lot of doing," Mr. Infante answered. "The Muggles decommissioned this ship a few years ago, and it was just sitting in a port in Bremerton, Washington when the Muggle President offered it to us. We had to use a lot of Confundus Charms, Muggle Repellent Charms, and Mrs. Ku built one of the largest Floo portals ever to transport it to this cavern."

"And we had to do it all without the Death Eaters catching any hint of it," Mrs. Infante added. "As you can imagine, that wasn't easy."

"C'mon. Let me take you to the bridge and introduce you to the captain." Mr. Infante gazed at the quartet and Mireet. "The rest of you get to your compartments. We'll be leaving soon."

The group marched up the gangplank. O'Bannon checked the gray side of the battleship and saw the name emblazoned on the side of the bow.

_USS NEW JERSEY._

While the other ex-Salem students headed down the narrow steel corridor, the quartet and Mireet followed the Infantes and Diazes up several staircases until the came to an arched metal door. Two men stood on either side of it. Both young, around O'Bannon's age, and wearing green and black camouflage uniforms. Each one also had an M-16 assault rifle slung over their shoulders.

"Are those Muggles?" Rosa blurted in astonishment.

"Yes they are."

The two Muggles – Marines, O'Bannon guessed – snapped to attention as Mr. Infante opened the door and stepped inside. The others followed.

O'Bannon gaped as he looked around the bridge. The consoles around him contained all sorts of switches and dials and other instruments straight out of the 1940s or 1950s. A huge wheel was mounted near the front of the bridge, with a stand with a brass handle next to it.

Even the crew amazed him. Most wore denim overalls and white shirts, and ranged in age to the early twenties to guys who looked like they may have served on this ship in World War Two.

"Mister Infante." A lean man with angular features and wearing a beige uniform walked over to him. "Are all your people aboard?"

"Almost. Captain, I want to introduce you to some new additions to our attack force. This is my daughter, Rosa, my nephew, Jared Diaz, and their friends, Jimmy O'Bannon, Artimus Rand and Mireet Miradeaux. Everyone, this is Captain Kessinger."

The Captain shook hands with the quartet and Mireet. "Pleasure to meet you all. I've heard a lot about you. Sounds like you've been giving the Death Eaters all kinds of hell."

"We've been doing our best," O'Bannon replied.

"Um, Sir," Artimus spoke hesitantly. "Is everyone on this ship a Muggle?"

"Most of the _New Jersey's _crew are Muggles. But we all have at least one relative who's a Muggle-born wizard or witch. My daughter, Kelly, in fact, goes to Fantimoor in Washington . . . or she did until everything went to hell. Anyway, we know our asses are in a sling in this war, too, and we're not going to just sit back and let these dregs kill us without a fight."

A surge of pride went through O'Bannon. Kessinger reminded him of Nathan Tonks, a cousin of Tonks' late father and a Royal Navy officer who helped the Order of the Phoenix in Britain. He prayed the commander was all right.

"So how did you come to be captain of this ship?" asked Mireet.

"I'm one of the few relatives of a Muggle-born with command experience. My last tour I was executive officer on the destroyer _USS Cushing. _We've got quite a few active duty military on this ship, along with a lot of former military. A few others are active or former law enforcement. We also have folks with medical experience on board. Doctors, nurses, paramedics. Basically, relatives of Muggle-borns who know how to handle intense situations."

"What about all your electronic stuff?" asked Rosa. "I mean, we've just developed spells that make some Muggle electronic devices work in magical environments, but I'm sure the Death Eaters can still screw up your missiles and computers."

"I know," Captain Kessinger answered her. "So we removed all advanced electronics from _New Jersey._ Everything you see here is pretty much the sort of controls this ship had during World War Two. So for things like navigation and fire control, we're relying in large part on our eyeballs, instinct and guts. Not the sort of things magic can easily deal with."

O'Bannon smiled wide. He took a few deep, prideful breaths. Muggles and wizards fighting together. The history buff in him wondered if this was similar to the American Revolution when wizards and witches secretly helped George Washington's army on a few occasions, including clearing a path through the ice on the Delaware River and casting a few well-placed Confundus Charms on the Hessians during the Battle of Trenton. It also filled him with hope that he could be witnessing a pivotal point in history, the start of a future when all this prejudice by wizards toward Muggles could finally come to an end.

A half-hour later, the entire wizarding attack force was aboard the _New Jersey. _Radios and loudspeakers crackled to life.

"Secure all bulkheads."

"All bulkheads secure, aye."

"Clear the deck of all personnel."

"Deck clear, aye."

"Mister Henderson." Kessinger addressed a pot-bellied old man with a thick white mustache at the large wheel. "All ahead five knots."

"All ahead five knots, aye."

The huge ship lurched forward. Tingles raced through O'Bannon.

_This is it._

Minutes later the battleship emerged from its cavern and plowed through Lake Michigan.

"So did you guys put a lot of charms on this ship to keep Muggles from seeing it?" O'Bannon asked the Infantes and Diazes. "I mean, a battleship in one of the Great Lakes isn't a normal thing, even in the Muggle world."

Captain Kessinger answered that. "Don't worry. The magic-types took care of that. Mister Henderson. Engage our . . . _special feature."_

"Engaging special feature, aye." The old sailor pulled the brass handle all the way back.

The _New Jersey _lurched again, enough to make the quartet and Mireet stumble. O'Bannon felt the sensation of going down. He stared out the thick bridge windows. Chills spread through his body as water rolled over the battleship's deck, then covered the gun turrets.

"What the hell? We're going down."

"Yup." Mrs. Infante casually rocked back and forth on her heels.

Soon the _New Jersey _was completely underwater. O'Bannon looked around the bridge. Most of the crew didn't bat an eyelash.

"All ahead full, Mister Henderson."

"All ahead full, aye, Captain."

Henderson pushed the brass lever up. The _New Jersey _shot through the water.

O'Bannon quickly recovered from his shock and stared out the bridge windows, marveling at the situation. The Guild of the Light had turned the _New Jersey _into a submarine-battleship!

"This is too cool!" He looked left and right with wide eyes. "Man, this is just like the _Argo _from _Star Blazers."_

"The what?" Esteban cranked an eyebrow.

Rosa answered. "Oh, it's this old Japanese cartoon Jimmy showed us a few times."

"It's _anime_, not a cartoon," he corrected her. "There's a difference."

"Oh sorry. Please forgive this ignorant pureblood." Rosa shot him a wry grin.

O'Bannon returned it. Happiness flickered briefly inside him. He couldn't remember the last time they had joked like this.

The _New Jersey _continued to glide under Lake Michigan. O'Bannon continued to gaze out the windows in amazement. A few times he spotted rusted shipwrecks nearby. He shook his head. After all the incredible things he had experienced since entering the Wizarding World, sailing in a magically enhanced underwater battleship had to be the coolest thing ever!

Suddenly an ethereal dolphin patronus appeared in the middle of the bridge. Some of the Muggles showed surprise, but only for an instant. O'Bannon figured many of them had grown used to magic by now.

"Cesario," a female voice came from the patronus. "We've broken through the wards and security spells around Helghorst Island. You can proceed whenever you're ready."

"Thank you, Raena."

The patronus faded away. Mr. Infante looked around the bridge. "All right. Our Curse-Breakers have taken care of the Death Eater's defenses. Mister Johnstone. How far are we from Helghorst Island?"

A middle-age man with graying hair and glasses stared up from his glass plot board. "Thirteen miles."

"Excellent. Captain, if I may?"

"Of course." Kessinger handed him a microphone.

"Attention. This is Cesario Infante. Prepare to surface. All wizards and witches, proceed to your assembly points. As soon as we surface, we attack."

_**NEXT: THE BATTLE OF HELGHORST ISLAND**_


	27. The Battle Of Helghorst Island

**CHAPTER 27: THE BATTLE OF HELGHORST ISLAND**

* * *

A monstrous thunderclap shook the air. O'Bannon felt the _New Jersey _rock backwards as all nine of its massive 16-inch guns fired. Plumes of orange and black belched from each barrel.

"Damn, that's loud," Jared winced. "And I got an Ear Protection Charm on me."

O'Bannon nodded without looking at his friend. His focus was on the distant, rocky island in the middle of Lake Michigan. Bright white flashes sprouted across the jagged land mass.

More thunderclaps erupted from _New Jersey. _Its 16-inch and 5-inch guns hurled shell after shell at Helghorst Island. A string of white fireballs blotted out the island. O'Bannon leaned forward, his breaths becoming quicker. He imagined the Blancosflame shells burning the entire island to a cinder, along with every Death Eater on it. Maybe they wouldn't need to invade. Maybe _New Jersey _could blast Death Eater Central to bits all by itself.

The shelling went on. Voices burst from the speakers in the bridge, giving updates on turret rotation, gun elevation, distance to target, whether shells hit their target or came up short.

For fifteen minutes _New Jersey _pounded Helghorst Island. It surprised O'Bannon that they received no return fire.

_Jeez, do they just want to sit back and get hammered?_

"C'mon," Mr. Infante said twenty-five minutes into the bombardment. "We'd better get to our assembly areas."

O'Bannon nodded, wondering if there'd be any Death Eaters for them to face once they got to Helghorst Island. Would there even be a Helghorst Island? The brilliant white Blancosflame blotted out the entire island.

The wizards and witches left the bridge. They proceeded down the metal staircases and into one of the corridors leading to an outer hatch. Salem alumni crowded the steel and pipe-laden corridor. Several gripped their brooms tight or quietly stared at the floor, lost in their thoughts. O'Bannon's heartbeat increased. He rubbed his thumb up and down the handle of the broom one of the _New Jersey _crewmen fetched for him before they surfaced. His eyes roamed the corridor, taking in his friends and former classmates. How many of them would be killed attacking Helghorst Island?

_But look what the _New Jersey's _doing. There won't be anything left of that island._

But didn't the Allies shell and bomb the hell out of Normandy prior to the D-Day landings? And weren't there still a ton of Germans left to make life miserable for the soldiers who came ashore?

His stomach turned into a ball of ice. Hadn't he lost enough friends in this war? He didn't know if he had it in him to mourn any more people. There were still times he couldn't accept Hector Rand and Mrs. Diaz being gone. And Rana. Not a day went by when he just wanted to scream in rage and anguish over what happened to her.

He barely suppressed a shiver as a horrible thought hit him. What if something happened to Rosa or Jared or Artimus?

Or Mireet?

He couldn't imagine having to go on without any of them in his life.

O'Bannon held his breath when he realized something. He couldn't hear the thunderous blasts of _New Jersey's _guns.

He tensed. The shelling had stopped. That could only mean . . .

"Helghorst Island assault force!" Captain Kessinger's voice boomed through the ship. "Assemble on the deck! Repeat! Helghorst Island assault force! Assemble on the deck!"

The hatch clanked and swung open. Sunlight and lingering smoke from the guns filtered into the corridor.

O'Bannon clutched his broom, pushing down all his fears and worries. He had a battle to fight. He had people to lead.

"Go! Go! Go!" he shouted.

Wizards and witches poured outside. Several coughed as smoke hung over _New Jersey's _deck. O'Bannon's face twisted as the sharp stench of cordite filled his nostrils.

He stopped near the bow and looked behind him. The Salem alumni, with help from Gregory and Aquila, lined up in even columns. His eyes darted among the Quidditch players until he caught Mireet's gaze. They stared at one another for several seconds, his insides twisting with worry.

_God, please don't let anything happen to her._

She nodded at him. He nodded back, and forced himself to turn away. He gazed at Helghorst Island in the distance, a white cloud hovering over it.

"Helghorst Island assault force," Mr. Infante's magically amplified voice boomed over the deck. "Wands at the ready!"

O'Bannon drew his wand. He glanced at Artimus to his left, and Rosa and Jared to his right. All wore determined looks.

"Helghorst Island assault force! Take off!"

The quartet kicked off the steel deck and lifted into the air. So did the rest of the Salem alumni. So did hundreds of other witches and wizards. O'Bannon rotated his head, taking in the mass of flying humans stretching from one end of _New Jersey _to the other. His heart sped up. A maelstrom of emotions roared through him. Pride. Hope. Awe. Worry. Anxiousness.

"FORWARD!!!" Mr. Infante bellowed.

O'Bannon leaned forward. Wind screamed around him as he shot toward Helghorst Island.

He narrowed his eyes, shoving aside his emotions. _Focus on the mission. Focus on the mission._

The island drew closer. Tension wrapped around him. Any moment he expected curses and hexes to fly their way.

Any moment.

Any moment.

For a fleeting second, he relaxed. Maybe the bombardment did kill all the Death Eaters. As he neared Helghorst Island, he noticed many of the battlements and large carvings completely destroyed. Numerous white rings covered the island. He wondered why they weren't black, until he remembered Blancosflame left white ash.

He drew a deep breath, examining the craters and scorch marks and rubble. _New Jersey _really worked this place over. Maybe this would be a cake wa-

A flurry of bolts streaked up from the island, bolts of every color; red, blue, yellow, silver, gold, orange, purple . . .

Green!

"EVASIVE MANEUVERS!!!" O'Bannon yelled.

He banked left. Artimus, his wingman, followed. Rosa and Jared broke right.

Magical bolts sizzled all around. The Salem alumni weaved and jinked and banked and cast spells and curses of their own. Penelope Hale and Dante Marshall used Shield Charms to deflect a few bolts. Ira Ixler loosed a Reductor Curse that blasted part of the shoreline. O'Bannon couldn't tell if the curse got anyone.

Dots rose from Helghorst Island, dots that soon took the form of Death Eaters on brooms.

O'Bannon snapped his wand back and forth, spells and curses flying from its tip. A Death Eater's broom shattered. The person on it tumbled from the sky and slammed into the rocks below. Rosa and Jared brought down three more Death Eaters. Artimus missed with several curses and spells, but finally perforated a Death Eater with swarm flying spiked balls.

A flash of green caught O'Bannon's eye. He glanced left. His throat clenched as he watched Beatrice Hill's limp body fall through the air and splash into the water.

_Good God. I was comforting her just over an hour ago._

_Don't mourn now! Fight!_

Teeth bared, he jerked and weaved and cast more spells and curses.

The Death Eaters plunged into the Salem formation. Dozens of bodies swirled around in a human whirlwind. Wizards and witches shot curses at point blank range. Three Death Eaters fell from their broom.

So did three Salem grads.

O'Bannon dodged a curse, then dodged a speeding Death Eater. Another one shot toward him.

"_Freezium!"_

A white beam nailed the Death Eater, turning him into a human ice statue. The Death Eater plummeted into the water.

Wizards and witches shot past one another. Magical bolts sliced through the air. It made O'Bannon think of a Quidditch match on a larger, and deadlier, scale.

And the former Quidditch players, used to such chaotic swarms, thrived in this environment. Gregory Lancemore and Darius Forten each knocked down two Death Eaters. Mario Hernandez cast a Battering Charm that wrecked another Death Eater's broom. The hooded figure spiraled out of the sky and bounced across the rocks. Mireet sliced off the rear of a female Death Eater's broom. She spun out of control and slammed into Lake Michigan.

Suddenly another Death Eater dropped from the sky and pulled up next to her, wand raised.

Mireet's left leg shot out. Her foot rammed into the Death Eater's head. The bad guy slumped, rolling away from Mireet. She hit him with a Body-Bind Curse. The rigid Death Eater fell off his broom and into the water.

O'Bannon smiled briefly. Male or female, it didn't matter. Beaters were some of the toughest players on the planet.

Three more Salem grads fell from the sky as the quartet neared their target . . . or what remained of it. It appeared as though someone had taken a large sword and sliced off the top half of the rock battlement.

The Death Eaters stepped up their attack. Water spouts rose from Lake Michigan, twisting viciously, trying to knock fliers from their brooms. Large, pointy rocks shot up from the island and into the Salem formation. O'Bannon and Jared knocked out a couple with Reductor Curses. Artimus blocked two with a Shield Charm. Ursa Oberlin reversed the direction of one rock missile and sent it crashing near a Death Eater on the ground, knocking him off his feet. Another rock missile impaled Eli Witting through the chest. He slipped from his broom and tumbled into the water.

Rosa and Jared shot between a pair of water spouts and hurtled toward the battlement. Two Death Eaters stood among the ruined parapets. They spotted Rosa and Jared just as the cousins let fly a pair of Reductor Curses. The top of the battlement exploded into a gray and black cloud. Two mangled bodies soared from the blast and crashed into the rocks below.

Rosa and Jared landed on the smashed battlement. O'Bannon and Artimus joined them seconds later. More of the quartet's assault force quickly followed.

"Let's go!" O'Bannon led them down the shattered stone staircase and into the corridors. Several times they had to use their wands to remove fallen debris that blocked their path.

They had yet to encounter any Death Eaters. At least any live ones. O'Bannon grimaced when he came across the torso of a Death Eater, white Blancosflame ashes around his waist. The man had no legs, the white fire cauterizing his severed body. Nausea burned in his stomach and up his throat when he caught the stench of burnt meat in the air.

Somehow, O'Bannon managed not to puke.

Three other Salem graduates did, including Evelyn McAllister.

They checked another corridor to make sure it was clear, the proceeded down it. They repeated the process again. Again.

_Where the hell are these bastards? _He couldn't imagine why the Death Eaters would let them run through the corridors of their headquarters without any kind of resistance. He thought maybe all the Death Eaters were outside trying to beat back the invasion.

_No way. There's gotta be more than that._

He moved through another corridor, and thought of Rana, how he wouldn't see her again. A black hole swallowed his heart. His pace slowed. Rana was dead. And surely every other woman he ever cared about would die. Rosa. Mireet. Penny Nichols, his first serious girlfriend. Talia Laribee. All dead. He'd never . . .

_Oh crap! _"Dementors!"

As if on cue, three of the hooded creatures glided around the bend and headed toward them.

Four corporeal Patronus Charms barreled down the corridor; O'Bannon's bear, Rosa's jaguar, Jared's tiger and Artimus' hedgehog. The Dementors hissed and beat a hasty retreat.

"Go! Go! Go!" O'Bannon charged forward, the others following. He knew they were closing in on the central part of the island, the suspected Death Eater command center. Why wasn't there more resistance?

A chill swept over him. Maybe the Death Eaters decided to hole up in the command center, make one final, bloody stand. The nausea returned. How many more friends and former classmates would he lose in such a battle?

They rounded another corner. Surprise shot through him when he saw a group of people ahead of him.

Guild of the Light members. Several of them stood in front of a thick, wooden, arched doorway, bombarding it with spells. Among them were Mrs. Infante and Esteban Diaz.

"Mom!" Rosa shouted. "What's going on?"

Mrs. Infante turned to her daughter. "We found the Death Eater's command center. They cast a bunch of wards over the door, but we'll break through soon."

O'Bannon watched as bolt after bolt battered the door. Fear and anticipation collided within him. He almost didn't want the door to open, scared to death of the bloodbath he envisioned. Yet getting through that door would likely bring the American Front of the Wizarding War to an end.

"That oughta do it, Aunt Adelaide," said Esteban.

"All right. I want Shield Charms up as soon as this door opens. Everyone get ready. These bastards won't go down without a fight."

O'Bannon tightened his grip on his wand. His heart pounded in his chest. He glanced around Rosa, Jared and Artimus. He prayed they'd all come through this okay.

Mrs. Infante slashed her wand in front of her. The door swung open. Half-a-dozen Shield Charms went up. O'Bannon's muscles tightened, anticipating a massive barrage.

Nothing.

Mrs. Infante's jaw dropped. "Merlin's beard," she whispered.

Esteban and the other Guild members also lowered their wands, all of them staring into the command center with wide eyes and open mouths.

"Mom, what is it?" asked Rosa.

Her mother continued to gape at whatever she saw in the room.

"Mrs. Infante." O'Bannon canted his head. He turned to Rosa, who nodded toward her mother. They started over to her, followed by Jared and Artimus.

O'Bannon got within a foot of Mrs. Infante before looking into the room. His jaw fell open in shock.

_Oh my God._

A few startled gasps and hushed, "Merlin's beards," went up behind him. He continued staring into the room, a surreal feeling enveloping him.

The room was large and circular with dark walls. Torches floated near the ceiling. A raised altar stood on the other side of the room.

And a mass of bodies covered the floor!

O'Bannon's eyes slowly roamed over the corpses, all dressed in black, many clutching goblets, or with goblets lying inches from their still hands.

Mrs. Infante took a hesitant step inside. O'Bannon and Rosa followed. One by one, the others entered, their heads slowly rotating back and forth. A horrid, stale odor hung in the air. O'Bannon bit back the urge to vomit when he recognized it.

Human waste.

He grimaced. He swore he heard on some TV show that people emptied their bowels when they died.

Thick, splattering sounds came from behind him. He didn't look to see who puked.

Mrs. Infante knelt next to a Death Eater and waved her wand over the goblet clutched in his stiff hand.

"Poison. Looks like it was derived from setagotha spines."

"You mean they all just killed themselves?" Ursa Oberlin spoke with a mix of shock and revulsion.

O'Bannon gazed over the sea of black-robed bodies, the reek of feces making it nearly impossible to take more than half-a-breath. "Man, it's like that place in from the Seventies. Jonestown."

"What's that?" Ursa's brow crinkled.

"This little community in South America set up by this wacko preacher guy named Jim Jones. He brainwashed a bunch of people into thinking he was, like, the second coming or something. Then after they killed this Muggle congressman and reporter investigating Jonestown, wacko Reverend Jim figured they were in big trouble, so he convinced his followers to join him in drinking poisoned fruit punch. Musta been something like nine hundred people who killed themselves there."

Many of the Guild members, including Artimus, Jared and Esteban, stared at him in astonishment.

"That's where the Muggles came up with the phrase, 'drinking the Kool-Aid' when we're talking about nutjobs like this." His waved his arm to indicate the sea of bodies.

"Sounds like a good analogy, Jimmy." Mrs. Infante rose to her feet. "They all probably thought with You-Know-Who dead, their days were numbered."

She headed to the altar, stepping over several bodies on her way. O'Bannon and the others followed. Mrs. Infante stopped at the top step and stared down at a dead Death Eater. The man's hood had fallen away, revealing an angular face with a shock of close cropped white hair.

"Olin Grath himself." Anger lines etched in Mrs. Infante's face as she stared at the former head of the American Death Eaters. "You got off easy, you son-of-a-bitch."

Footsteps echoed from outside. Everyone turned, wands raised.

Darius Forten entered the room, followed by Abigail Aguirre, Mario Hernandez, Ira Ixler, Mireet and the rest of the Salem air support contingent.

"Merlin." Darius gawked at the mass of bodies.

Abigail covered her open mouth with a hand. A stunned Mireet uttered something in French.

"What are you guys doing here?" O'Bannon headed over to them.

Darius' mouth opened and closed silently for a few moments. He managed to tear his gaze away from the corpses. "Oh, um, we beat 'em. We shot down most of the Death Eaters, and the others surrendered. Merlin's beard, are they all dead?"

"Looks that way. They poisoned themselves." O'Bannon's eyes darted around the air support group, and noticed someone missing. "Where's Gregory?"

Darius closed his eyes. Tremors spread through O'Bannon.

"He's dead, Jimmy. Killing Curse, right out of nowhere. I don't think he saw it coming."

O'Bannon closed his eyes. His lungs stopped working. Gregory Lancemore? Dead?

He gritted his teeth. Their friendship had suffered after the Projection Potion incident. But he'd always gotten along with him before then, always complimenting him on his talent at picking up witches, having chats about Quidditch, fielding all sorts of questions from him about the Muggle World.

"_So you just stick a card in this machine, and it gives you money?"_

"_Yeah. It's called an ATM."_

"_That's awesome! Sure as hell beats standing in line at our banks."_

He tried to push down the lump in his throat. Gregory, Rana, Beatrice, Cindy, Eli, the Pinder brothers. When would this war stop taking former schoolmates of his?

_Oh God. Rosa. _She and Gregory had dated during their time at Salem. How would she take this news?

A white flash shot through the room. It halted in front of Mrs. Infante and took the form of a white ethereal elephant.

"Adelaide." Mr. Diaz's voice came from the patronus' mouth. "I need you out here now. Rosa, too. Follow my patronus."

The elephant turned and hurried toward the door. Mrs. Infante and Rosa exchanged concerned looks, then took off after the patronus.

O'Bannon caught the eyes of Jared, Artimus and Mireet. He then turned to Aquila.

"Aquila. Hold the fort for me. I'm goin' with Rosa and her mom."

Aquila nodded.

O'Bannon darted out of the room, Jared, Artimus and Mireet on his heels. They soon caught up with Rosa and Mrs. Infante. They wound their way through the corridors, O'Bannon still keeping an eye out for Death Eaters . . . living Death Eaters.

He saw none. After what he discovered in the command center, he didn't really expect to.

They got outside, taking quick and careful steps over the rocky terrain. The white elephant trotted near the shoreline. O'Bannon spotted Mr. Diaz staring at them. Someone lay on the ground next to him, someone with a pool of blood surrounding his right leg. He shivered and stumbled to a halt when he recognized the injured man.

Both Rosa and Mrs. Infante screamed.

"Dad!"

"Cesario!"

**XXXXX**

O'Bannon couldn't imagine how he did it. He stared at the knot of people outside _New Jersey's _sick bay. So much crying. So many tears. He wanted to join them. Rosa, Jared and Mrs. Infante, all huddled together against the steel wall. Mr. Diaz, staring at his sister, trembling, the color gone from his face as he fretted over his brother-in-law. Esteban and Artimus paced in little circles, tear tracks staining the face of Jared's older brother. Mireet stood next to him, clutching his hand, tears running down her cheeks.

He so desperately wanted to cry with them.

But he didn't. He couldn't. Someone had to be strong for everyone.

O'Bannon just stood in the corridor, teeth clenched, feeling Mireet grip his hand, praying over and over again for Mr. Infante to be okay. Hadn't Rosa and Jared's family suffered enough with Mrs. Diaz dying, dying on that same damn island months before?

No one spoke, the silence only broken by snobs and sniffles. Every once in a while one of their old Salem classmates would come by, asking for news about Mr. Infante, giving everyone their best wishes.

A memory popped into O'Bannon's mind. He was fourteen, visiting the Infantes' home, and somehow started talking to Mr. Infante about his girlfriend at the time, Penny Nichols.

"_So she starts going on about her new hairdo and she's like all POed because I didn't notice it. So I apologize and tell her it looked okay. And she gets even more POed. I mean, the way she was acting, you'd think I told her she looks like the offspring of a troll and a Dementor."_

"_Ah, Jimmy, Jimmy. You have to realize something about women. They spend a great amount of time to make sure they look their best for us. And for all the effort they put in to their appearance, they expect us to compliment them. It's our duty to tell them how beautiful they look."_

"_I told Penny her hair looks okay."_

"'_Okay' is an acceptable word for us men. But to a woman, they equate 'okay' with 'not good.' A proper response to your Penny would be something to the effect of, 'My dear, your hair looks wonderful. It makes your already beautiful face absolutely radiant.' That's the key. Compliment her, but don't cross the line and lay it on too thick, otherwise she'll think your lying. And it's not just the words, it's also your tone of voice. Always be sincere. How do you think I won over a tough woman liked Adelaide?_

O'Bannon clenched his teeth to the point he thought he'd crush all his molars. The Diazes and the Infantes had done so much to make him feel like a part of their family. They _were _his family. He couldn't . . . _they _couldn't lose another member.

He gave Mireet's hand a squeeze. Tears stung his eyes. His face muscles stiffened.

_Be strong. You have to be –_

Fear paralyzed him as the door to sick bay opened. A short, middle-aged woman with frazzled black hair stepped into the corridor. She wore the robes of a healer.

Mrs. Infante shot to her feet, as did Rosa and Jared. "Healer Zemmilring. My husband . . ."

The healer drew a breath. "It was touch and go, Mrs. Infante. Cesario lost a lot of blood. It took a lot of Blood Replenishment Potion to stabilize him, but we succeeded."

Several loud sighs of relief filled the corridor. Mrs. Infante pulled Jared and Rosa close to her, while Mr. Diaz came over and clasped his sister's shoulders.

"However . . ."

Everyone froze at that one word from the healer.

"His leg was badly injured. The curse that hit him did a lot of damage and . . . I'm sorry, but we had to amputate Cesario's right leg."

Mrs. Infante closed her eyes. Stunned expressions fell over Jared's and Rosa's faces. O'Bannon felt dizzy for a moment. Mr. Infante lost a leg?

"The rehabilitation and getting used to an artificial leg will be hard, but the important thing is your husband is alive, Adelaide. You still have him. That makes you luckier than many other people."

O'Bannon noticed Mr. Diaz close his eyes and lower his head.

"Yes. Yes, of course." Mrs. Infante spoke in a shaky voice. "You're right. Thank you. When can we see him?"

"He's a sleep right now. He probably will be asleep for quite a while. But as soon as he wakes up, I'll let you know. Sorry, but if you'll excuse, I have other patients to tend to."

"Yes, of course. Thank you so much."

"You're quite welcome." Healer Zemmilring nodded and went back inside the sick bay.

A quivering smile traced Mrs. Infante's lips. "He's going to be all right. He's going to be all right." She wrapped up Rosa and Jared in a hug. Mr. Diaz hugged her from behind. Within moments O'Bannon, Mireet, Artimus and Esteban joined in the group hug.

"Oh. Sorry to interrupt you folks."

Everyone turned to find Captain Kessinger standing a few feet away.

"No. No need to apologize, Captain."

Kessinger bit his lower lip momentarily. "How's your husband?"

"He's alive. They had to . . . they had to amputate his right leg, but he's going to make it."

"That's good." Kessinger nodded. "I'm sorry to hear about his leg, but at least he's alive."

Mrs. Infante just nodded.

Captain Kessinger continued. "I just wanted to let you know that Helghorst Island has been declared secure. We only took thirty prisoners. The Guild has their wands, and we locked them up in our brig. We've also received reports from other Guild members across the country. They've discovered several enclaves of Death Eaters who took the same way out as Grath and his fanatics back on the island. Others have surrendered, and a handful of diehards are still fighting. I think we can safely say we've moved from major combat operations to the mopping up phase."

"Thank you, Captain," replied Mrs. Infante.

"Thank you, Ma'am." Kessinger gave a slight bow. "Because of you folks, we don't have to live in fear anymore of the Wizarding World's version of Adolf Hitler and his Nazis. Because of you, my daughter can return to Fantimoor without fear someone will kill her for being a Muggle-born."

"We couldn't have won this battle without you and your crew, Captain. It was an honor to fight alongside you."

"The honor was mine, Ma'am." Captain Kessinger stood erect and snapped a salute.

Mrs. Infante straightened and imitated the Navy officer's salute almost perfectly.

Kessinger smiled. "I'll leave you be now. If you need anything, don't hesitate to ask me."

"Thank you, Captain."

With that, Kessinger turned on his heel and strode down the corridor.

O'Bannon watched him go, then turned back to his surrogate family. No one spoke. They all just looked at one another, sobering looks coming over their faces.

The reality of the situation weighed on him. He held his breath, part of him fearing if he said it, he'd jinx it.

He fought through the illogical fear. Between the reports from Britain and what he saw on Helghorst Island, he fully, willingly, embraced the truth, and gave that truth voice.

"It's over. My God, it's finally over."

* * *

_**NEXT: **__It's nineteen years later and everyone is married with children and living happily ever after . . . NOT!!! The war is over, but the pain and suffering continues. Next chapter, Jimmy gets . . . __**THE LETTER.**_


	28. The Letter

**CHAPTER 28: THE LETTER**

* * *

Jimmy O'Bannon had no idea what wizarding high muckamuck, in which country, declared the Second Big War Against Voldemort officially over. Whoever it was, he wished he could meet that person and tell him or her what a liar they were.

Two days had passed since the Battle of Helghorst Island, and O'Bannon felt just as busy as any other day over the past nine months. More than a few Death Eaters and collaborators remained at large and had to be hunted down. Plus there were all the dark creatures who had sided with Voldemort that needed to be dealt with. Jared's father and what remained of his old SMACRAT team handled that task, along with several volunteers from the Guild. Even many Muggles from the _New Jersey's _crew helped out. Many witches and wizards had been skeptical at first of how well Muggles, even those with military and law enforcement backgrounds, could deal with magical creatures. They soon learned that bullets, grenades and rocket launchers could be just as effective against trolls, giants, wendigos and reptoids as any spell or curse.

O'Bannon shuffled out of the Floo portal and into the Guild of the Light's underground complex on the banks of Lake Michigan. He looked behind him and saw Rosa, Jared, Artimus, Mireet, Dante Marshall, Penelope Hale and Terrance Kirby emerge from the green flames. All of them looked as exhausted as he felt. He couldn't count how many mop-up missions they'd been on since Helghorst Island fell. They'd all been lucky, though. Every time they found an enclave of Death Eater holdouts, the bastards surrendered without a fight. Of course, Mrs. Infante, who'd pretty much taken charge of mop-up operations, played it smart. If she learned of some place where, say, three Death Eaters were holed up, she'd send _thirty _Guild members to get them. While such an approach may have been akin to taking out an anthill with one of the _New Jersey's _big guns, O'Bannon didn't mind the overkill one bit if it meant no one cast a curse or hex his way. More often than not, the lopsided numbers convinced the already demoralized Death Eaters to give up, or in a few cases, kill themselves. That didn't bother him one bit. The fewer Death Eaters in the world, the better.

"I'm gonna hit the sack," grumbled Jared. "Wake me up in a week."

"Sounds like a plan to me." O'Bannon could barely keep his eyelids up. Hopefully he could get a few hours of sleep before Mrs. Infante sent them out on another mop-up mission. He wondered much longer this would go on.

"Oh good. There you all are."

O'Bannon lazily swung his head to the left. Mrs. Infante strode toward him and his friends.

"Mom, can you at least let us get some rest before you send us after another Death Eater too stupid to surrender on his own?" Rosa groused.

"Don't worry, Rosa. I'm not sending you back out on another mission just now. I just thought you'd like to say good-bye to some very special people."

"Huh?" Jared scrunched his face in confusion.

"Follow me."

Too tired to argue, O'Bannon and his friends followed Mrs. Infante out of the Guild's command center. He willed his eyes to stay open as they made their way through the rock corridors until they finally reached a spacious room with several long tables that served as the complex's cafeteria.

_Who the hell are these "special people" Mrs. Infante's talking about?_

He walked inside. When he saw the large group in front of him, he stopped and immediately came awake.

The children, the quartet's eighteen children, turned in their direction. Several adults stood among the kids. Parents and other relatives. They'd all been staying at the complex for the past couple of days, as Mrs. Infante felt it might still be too dangerous to let them return to their homes.

O'Bannon's brow furrowed. He turned to Rosa's mother. "Are . . . are they leaving?"

Mrs. Infante nodded. "Yes. Most of the remaining Death Eaters are either dead or in custody. I talked it over with a few other high-ranking Guild members, and we decided that it's safe enough to have them all return home. Oh, we've encouraged them to erect more wards and security charms than usual around their homes. But we think it's time for them to go home and start living a normal life again."

O'Bannon felt his chest tighten. He looked to the children, his eyes moving from one face to another. Kyon. Deanna. Daedalus. Willie. Jillian. Jonah. Brendan. Madson. Crea. Maria. Gibson.

Holly.

A hole opened in his chest. Part of him didn't want them to leave. After being with them for nine months, caring for them, protecting them, comforting them, he found it hard to accept having to let them go.

Inwardly, he laughed. He thought back to the day the Infantes and Diazes assigned him and his friends to protect these children. At the time he had wanted nothing to do with it. He wanted to fight Death Eaters, not be a babysitter.

Looking back on it, he wouldn't have traded the experience for anything.

"Hey." Artimus scanned the children, his eyebrow cranked in a quizzical manner. "Where's Vance at?"

"His dad took him home while you were gone," Deanna answered.

"Yeah," Daedalus chimed in. "I think his exact words were, 'I've had to live in the woods for nine months, then they made me live in this cave. I'm not waiting for them. Let's go.'"

Rosa sneered and shook her head. "What an ungrateful little son-of-a-"

Mrs. Infante cut her daughter off with a harsh look.

O'Bannon snorted. It didn't break his heart to not say good-bye to Vance Hochaver. The kid had been a pain in the ass from day one. He'd consider himself lucky if he never ran into Vance again.

The other children, however . . .

The quartet and Mireet moved toward them. O'Bannon clenched his teeth, determined not to cry, to maintain his air as the unflappable leader.

It proved difficult when Deanna wrapped her arms around him and squeezed tight. He wondered if he could make it through the other sixteen kids without breaking down.

_You have to. You're a leader. _

Rosa didn't bother to suppress her sobs. Her voice cracked every time she hugged a child and said good-bye. Artimus had a few tear streaks running down his cheeks. Mireet openly wept as the children hugged her and thanked her for bringing them food and other supplies.

"Thank you for making Christmas so great," Crea said as she hugged the tall, blond French witch. "You brought us a lot of cool stuff."

"You are welcome." Whatever else Mireet wanted to say was lost in her sobs.

Even Jared looked teary eyed as he gave manly hugs to Brendan and Madson.

O'Bannon held his breath as he looked away from his friend . . .

And right at Holly Juniper.

A lump formed in his throat as Holly dashed over to him and flung her arms around him.

"I'm gonna miss you, Coach Jimmy," she spoke through her loud sobs. "I'm gonna miss you."

"I'm gonna miss you, too." He feared if he said anything more he'd lose his composure. He placed a gentle kiss on the top of Holly's head as a portly witch with short graying hair came over to him.

"Jimmy," said Holly's Aunt Madeline. "I know since I got here I've thanked you a lot for looking after my niece over the last year. But I just can't say it enough." She placed a hand on his cheek. "Bless you, young man. Bless you."

"You're welcome."

Aunt Madeline smiled, tears forming in her eyes. "You're a fine wizard, Jimmy O'Bannon. You're a fine human being."

He nodded, trying not to look away from the witch. He recalled that night Holly was attacked by the setagotha, how he pretended to threaten that healer's daughter with a Cruciatus Curse to force him to save her.

_Yeah. Some fine human being I am._

"Whose gonna tell bedtime stories now?" Holly's sobbing voice brought him back to the present.

"I'm sure your Aunt Madeline can tell you some great stories."

"They won't be as good as yours."

O'Bannon's neck muscles clenched. He stared at Madeline with an apologetic look. The old witch gave him a sympathetic smile.

The quartet, Mireet and Mrs. Infante walked the children and their relatives back to the command center, where more hugs were exchanged before, one by one, each family stepped into the green flames and disappeared. O'Bannon closed his eyes and lowered his head, fighting back another urge to cry.

The children were no longer part of his life.

"You should all be proud of yourselves." Mrs. Infante hugged the five of them. "You kept every one of those children safe against incredible odds. I can't tell you how proud I am of each and every one of you."

They all thanked her as Esteban approached them.

"Aunt Adelaide. I just heard from Oriana. Our house is all fixed up, so everyone can move in whenever they're ready."

"Who's moving in to your place?" asked Jared.

"All of you." Mrs. Infante took in the quartet and Mireet. "Our mop-up operations have been very successful over the past two days, so I think we're to the point we can start letting some of our people go back to their homes. If we need them, they're only a Floo away. And since both our home and Irving's home were pretty much wrecked by Death Eaters, I figured you kids could stay with Esteban and Oriana until we're wrapped up here."

"Thanks, Mrs. Infante," said Artimus.

"Yeah, thanks," O'Bannon added. "My apartment building in Haypippil Square got torched, and last I heard my parents won't be here for a couple more days, so I'm pretty much homeless right now."

"Don't mention it." Esteban held up a hand. "It'll be a tight fit, but we'll make it work."

"Actually . . ." Mireet stepped forward. "I've spoken with some of the witches and wizards from my apartment building. They checked on my apartment and told me the Death Eaters did not, er, what is the term? 'Trashed it?' I believe I can return to it. And, Jimmy, you may stay with me if you like."

His eyes bulged. He stared at Mireet in stunned silence. His heart beat faster. Mireet was inviting him to stay at her place?

"Um, uh, really?"

"Of course. I would love to have stay with me." She shot him the warmest smile he'd ever seen from her. And her eyes. Was it just him, or did they radiate . . . desire? Hope?

_Does she want to . . ._

He continued to stare at her, mouth agape. His brain screamed at him to say something.

Mireet titled her head, her long blond hair cascading past her shoulder. Her lips parted a bit. Her eyes closed halfway.

Heat raced through him. _Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God._

He jumped when Rosa clamped a hand on his shoulder. "I think that's a great idea, Mireet. Besides, I'm not sure we'd have enough room for Jimmy at Esteban and Oriana's place. He's definitely better off with you." She winked at Mireet, then at O'Bannon. Mrs. Infante lowered her head, a wry grin crossing her lips.

O'Bannon stared at Mireet and swallowed, soaking in the sultry look she gave him.

"Um, I'm ready to go whenever you are."

**XXXXX**

O'Bannon and Mireet spent a good chunk of the afternoon repairing the damage the Death Eaters had done to her apartment, taking a break for a quick trip to a Chinese restaurant a couple blocks away. When the apartment had been returned to its original state, he took a quick shower. When he finished, Mireet headed for the shower, giving him another sultry look as they passed in the narrow hallway. O'Bannon let his fingers brush over her hand. She shot him another warm smile as she disappeared into the bathroom.

He fell onto the couch, an airy feeling in his chest. He closed his eyes, imagining Mireet in his arms, then kissing her, undressing her, making love to her.

He never thought this day would actually happen. When he left Hogwarts three years ago, he never believed he and Mireet Miradeaux would cross paths again, let alone begin a relationship.

But they could do that now. They no longer had an ocean separating them. They no longer had a war to fight.

O'Bannon sat back, eyes still closed, listening to the muffled drone of the shower, waiting for the water to stop, waiting for the most awesome night of his life to begin.

Five minutes passed. Something in the back of his mind clawed through his desire for Mireet. Something seemed . . . strange. Something about just sitting, doing nothing.

He opened his eyes and chewed on the inside of his cheek.

_I should be doing something._

But what was there to do? The apartment was fixed up. Mireet would be out of the shower soon. Why not just . . . relax?

O'Bannon shot to his feet, rubbing the back of his neck as he paced back and forth. How can he just relax? There had to be something to do. He always had something to do. Sentry duty. Hunting and foraging. Plotting out their routes for the day. Telling Holly bedtime stories.

But right at this moment, he had nothing to do. And he had to do something.

He scanned the apartment. Maybe there was something he and Mireet missed while cleaning up the place. He checked the pictures hanging on the wall. They all looked straight. Maybe they messed up when they magically repaired the busted furniture. Maybe something was out of place.

He checked the sofa, the chairs and the kitchenette table. They all looked fine.

O'Bannon rubbed the back of his neck harder. When was Mireet going to be done with her shower? He couldn't take this inactivity. There had to be something important he needed to do.

"Jimmy?"

He spun around when he heard the French-accented voice. His muscles stiffened at the sight before him.

Mireet stood across the small living room from him in a white silken nightgown that hugged every curve of her incredible body. He had trouble breathing as he kept staring at her.

"Jimmy, are you all right?" Concern spread over her face as she approached.

"What? Um, yeah. Yeah, I'm fine."

She canted her head, the skin above her eyes crinkling in a look that said she didn't believe him. "You do not look all right."

He sighed, not wanting to tell her the stupid reason he felt so anxious. But then, this was Mireet, the woman he loved, the woman whose bed he'd be sharing tonight. If he couldn't tell her . . .

"I'm sorry, Mireet. It's just . . . I was just sitting on the couch waiting for you. I mean, just sitting, doing nothing, and . . . you'd think after nine months on the run, looking after eighteen kids, I'd be ready to just lie back and do nothing. But . . . I don't know. When there always seemed something to do from the time you woke up to the time you go to bed, doing nothing . . . it just doesn't seem right."

He turned away from her, his eyes fixed on the wall, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Come here." Mireet walked over to the couch and sat down. She patted the cushion next to her. "Come."

O'Bannon groaned and headed over. He couldn't count how many times he'd pictured this scene in his mind during the past three years. Usually it had him telling Mireet how much he loved her, how she was the most beautiful girl in the entire world. None of his fantasies had him going on about some stupid anxiety.

He plopped down next to her. Mireet slid her long, well-toned legs under her and maneuvered herself behind him. The breath caught in his throat when he felt her fingers press down on his shoulders.

"Merlin's beard, you are so tense."

His insides shuddered as Mireet firmly yet gently massaged his shoulders. Before long her hands moved down to his shoulderblades, then very slowly back up to his shoulders.

Heat rose inside O'Bannon. He didn't think it was possible for someone to feel relaxed and anxious at the same time. But he did. He felt the knots in his shoulders loosen, but other parts of him stiffened, especially in his "southern regions."

He sensed Mireet leaning closer to him, her warm breath tickling the back of his neck.

Merlin's beard, he wanted her. Wanted her right now!

He twisted around on the couch to face her.

"Jimmy, I wasn't finished."

O'Bannon beamed at her. "We've got all night to do this. This, and, um, other things."

Mireet's smile grew wider. He covered her hand with his, his gaze switching between her eyes and her lips, lips that hovered just inches from his.

He drew a breath and leaned closer.

A tapping came from the window.

"What's that?" Mireet exclaimed, both their heads snapping toward the sound.

The tapping continued.

A growl percolated in O'Bannon's throat. He quickly recognized the sound.

"You've gotta be kidding me," he grumbled as he pushed himself off the couch and headed to the window. He drew back the curtains.

A brown owl sat on the windowsill, clutching a letter in his beak.

"Someone sent you an owl." He opened the window and glared at the bird, whispering, "Thanks a lot. I oughta shove your stupid ass in the oven."

The bird twittered as if offended and flew inside. It landed on the table as Mireet approached it. She stared closer at the envelope, then turned to him. "It is addressed to you."

"What?" His face scrunched in bewilderment, and walked over to the owl. Who the hell would send him an owl at this time of night, on _this _particular night?

He plucked the envelope from the owl's beak and scanned it.

Tremors shot through him. "Oh my God."

"What is it?" Mireet stepped next to him.

O'Bannon blinked, reading the outside of the envelope again.

**TO: Jimmy O'Bannon, USA**

**FROM: Ginny Weasley**

**C/O British Embassy of the United States, Wizarding Section**

"It's from Ginny." His thumbs and forefingers pressed harder against the envelope. He could guess the reason she wrote to him. Details regarding the Battle of Hogwarts had been slow in reaching the U.S. He knew many had died in the fighting, but not who.

He swallowed, afraid to open the envelope, afraid of what news Ginny would have for him. He'd lost enough friends and other people he cared about here in America. He didn't want to lose any more in Britain.

Mireet gently squeezed his wrist. She dipped her head to stare directly into his eyes. He picked up the dread in her gaze, but also the realization that, no matter how afraid they might be, they had to open this envelope.

Biting his lip, he broke the wax seal and opened the envelope. He pulled out the letter and, rather reluctantly, unfolded it. Mireet stepped closer to him, her shoulder touching his, as they read together.

_Dear Jimmy,_

_While this letter is addressed to you, it is also for Rosa, Jared, Artimus and Mireet, as I'm confident you will share this with them._

_I pray you are all well. I'm sure by now you are aware that You-Know-Who is dead. Harry killed him by redirecting an Avada Kedavra back at him. But we had to fight a horrific battle at Hogwarts in order to get to the point where Harry and You-Know-Who fought for the last time. We won, but, oh Merlin, the price was so great. _

_There is no easy way to tell you this, and I don't even know how I can write this, but Fred was killed –_

Mireet let out an agonized gasp. Both her hands shot up and covered her mouth.

The rest of the letter blurred to O'Bannon. _Fred was killed? _Tremors started in his arms and quickly spread to the rest of his body.

_Fred was killed?_

No. He must have read it wrong. Fred Weasley dead? Impossible.

He drew a shaky breath and read the line again.

_There is no easy way to tell you this, and I don't even know how I can write this, but Fred was killed during the battle._

His eyes remained locked on those three words.

_Fred was killed._

A high-pitch sob came from Mireet. She covered her eyes and lowered head. "No. Oh, Jimmy. No."

O'Bannon barely felt her press her head against his shoulder. He barely felt anything. His mind refused to accept this. Fred Weasley, one of his best friends, dead?

That can't be true! Fred was too smart, too daring, to die.

All the strength rushed out of his legs. He barely had enough willpower to stand. Mireet's cries grew louder. Memories exploded in his mind. Fred and George extending that first hand of friendship, a hand he had actually considered knocking away. The three of them forming the Triad hockey team, going to the Yule Ball, late night forays to the Hogwarts kitchen, all the pranks, hanging out in the Common Room. Had it not been for Fred and George, Hogwarts, and all the people he met there, would have never meant so much to him.

And now Fred was dead.

Mireet wrapped her arms around him, crying into his shoulder.

The letter shook in his hands. Tears stung his eyes. He practically crushed the paper to keep it still. Dread snaked through him as he forced himself to read on.

More invisible knives cut into his soul as Ginny wrote down the names of people killed in the battle.

Colin Creevey. Little Colin Creevey! Why him? That kid wouldn't hurt a fly.

Mandy Brocklehurst. Oh my God. She was that cute brunette from Ravenclaw House Anthony Goldstein had a crush on.

Jimmy Peakes. He tried out for the Triad, but didn't make the cut. He seemed like an okay guy. He'd apparently snuck back into Hogwarts to join the battle, like Colin did. Like Colin, Jimmy paid the price.

Dobby the house elf. Oh God, not him! Ginny wrote he hadn't died during the battle, but at Malfoy Manor, where he rescued Harry, Ron, Hermione, Dean and Luna. The little guy just wanted more than anything to serve people, answer their every need.

Professor Burbage. Ginny and the others had learned the Muggle Studies teacher, who'd helped Jimmy in his efforts to introduce hockey to Hogwarts, had been murdered almost a year ago by Voldemort.

Remus Lupin. Another one he couldn't believe. The man was an expert in Defense Against the Dark Arts. Such a patient teacher, and a decent man. He'd given O'Bannon so much good advice during the Chupacabra situation, treated him as an equal.

Then he remembered he'd been married to Tonks. Good God, she must be devastated.

He continued reading.

_And I'm so very sorry to tell you this, Jimmy, because I know how close you two were, but Tonks also died in the –_

"No." The strangled word emerged from his throat. No, no, no! Not Tonks. He'd already lost Rana. How could he lose another woman he had cared for?

Dizziness swept through his head. His legs quaked. With a hoarse gasp he crumpled to the floor, shaking. Mireet gasped as well, then fell to her knees, hugging him and crying against him.

The world blurred around him. His mind propelled him back over two years. He could feel the warmth and softness of Tonks' flesh against his as they made love in the Room of Requirement, the first time he ever had sex with anyone! Everything that had attracted him to her hit him full force. Her bravado, her spunk, her sarcastic wit, her intelligence, the way she smiled, and when she transformed her hair into the color of a sunset. She looked so beautiful, and she had done that just for him.

Most importantly, she believed in him as not only a soldier, but a leader, at a time when he had trouble believing in himself. Could he have made it through this war in one piece if he never met Nymphadora Tonks?

And now she was dead. Another woman he'd fallen for, dead.

The letter slipped from his fingers. He watched it fall to the floor, glaring at it, hating it. In just a few lines, he'd learned he'd lost one best friend and one former lover.

His throat tightened. His stomach twisted. Tears filled his eyes to the bursting point. He felt a sob about to explode from his mouth.

Then he heard Mireet crying, felt her convulsions against his body. He looked at her, biting his lower lip.

_I have to be strong for her._

But he didn't want to be strong. He wanted to cry. Cry for Tonks, for Rana, for Fred, for Mrs. Diaz, for Hector, for so many others.

_Leaders have to be strong._

He pivoted on his rear and took Mireet in his arms. She cried against his chest. He closed his eyes and buried his face in her thick hair. He clenched his teeth, fighting down the sobs that so desperately wanted to escape his throat. A few tears did leak from his eyes, but Mireet wouldn't see those.

O'Bannon continued to hold her. He had anticipated this being the best night of his life.

Instead it had become the worst.

_**TO BE CONTINUED **_


	29. Memorial

**CHAPTER 29: MEMORIAL**

* * *

_Why did I offer to do this?_

The heavy feeling in Rosa's stomach expanded to the rest of her insides. Her heartbeat picked up. She rubbed her fingers hard, glancing around at the rows of white chairs that lined the hilltop, and the people sitting in them. She took quick deep breaths. Merlin's beard, she'd actually have to talk in front of them all. Relatives, friends, members of the Guild of the Light and the U.S. Aurors Bureau, even some of her former teachers from the Salem Witches Institute. Not that speaking in front of groups of people ever bothered her. The difference here was the subject, or rather, the person she'd be talking about.

Holding her breath, she turned to the gray marble plaque in front of the gathering. Her eyes locked on the moving photograph atop it, one with a stocky woman with short black hair dressed in aurors robes and striking a dignified pose.

Aunt Liana.

A lump formed in Rosa's throat. It had been three months since Aunt Liana died, but the pain felt as fresh today as it did that night when Mireet Disapparated into their camp and gave them the news. It also troubled her she never had a chance to probably honor her aunt. None of her family did. How could anyone hold a proper memorial service when they're fighting Death Eaters or hiding in the mountains with eighteen children?

Now, two weeks after the Battle of Helghorst Island, they could say a final, fitting good-bye to Aunt Liana.

_I don't want to say good-bye. _She wanted her aunt to still be here when she needed advice, when she had a problem she needed to get off her chest, when she needed to vent over whatever idiot boyfriend she'd broken up with.

That would never happen again.

Rosa lowered her head, ignoring the din of voices around her, concentrating on the tears gathering at the edges of her eyes and making sure they didn't spill out.

She almost didn't notice when all the talking died down. People shuffled in their seats. Taking a half-breath, she lifted her head. A round, somber-looking wizard with a small fur hat covering his shock white hair strode up to the podium next to the monument for Aunt Liana.

"On behalf of the Diaz family, I thank you all for coming. Naturally, a memorial like this should have taken place some time ago. But now with the war over, we have the opportunity to honor our loved ones who fell in this dreadful conflict."

Movement caught Rosa's eye. She glanced down to the end of her row where Uncle Irving sat. He visibly shook, his head lowered and his eyes closed. Esteban, sitting next to him, clutched his father's arm.

Then her eyes fell on Jared, who sat next to Oriana and Rodolfo. He stared tight-faced at the ground.

The wizarding spiritual advisor continued. "Liana Diaz was one of many who lost their lives trying to end this war, trying to end the darkness that engulfed all of us for so long. But to those who knew Liana, they are not surprised by her sacrifice. She cared deeply about others, and made it her duty to protect them. It was a duty she took seriously until the end. But Liana was not just a warrior and a leader, she was a devoted wife to Irving, and a loving mother to her two sons, Esteban and Jared, and also, a loving grandmother to little Rodolfo."

Rosa's chest grew heavy as she looked at Esteban's and Oriana's little boy. He sat with an impassive look on his face, his feet swinging back and forth off the ground. Could he even comprehend what was going on here? How much would he remember about his Grandma Liana?

Her face reddened with anger. Damn Death Eaters. They deprived Rodolfo of a wonderful grandmother.

_And they deprived Uncle Irving of a wonderful wife, and Jared and Esteban of a wonderful mother . . ._

_And they deprived me of a wonderful aunt._

The wizard at the podium continued. "Now, the Diazes have requested to have a relative speak on behalf of the entire family, to share with all of us their reflections of Liana. So now I'd like to bring Liana's niece, Rosa Infante, to the podium."

All her muscles froze. She couldn't breathe. She gripped the sides of her chair.

_I can't do this. I can't do this._

A hand gently took hold of her shoulder. Her cheeks twitched as more tears formed in her eyes. She turned to her mother, who gave her a supportive, yet shaky, smile. Rosa then caught sight of Jimmy, sitting behind her, with his parents on one side and Mireet on the other. He nodded stiffly to her.

She tried, and failed, to smile in response.

_C'mon. Everyone's counting on you. Don't let them down._

_Don't let down Aunt Liana._

Gritting her teeth, she stood and walked toward the podium, trying to ignore her shaky legs, and her rapid heartbeat, and the painful knots in her stomach, and the tears that demanded to be released.

The spiritual advisor stepped aside to let Rosa stand at the podium. She looked out at the crowd in front of her. Her eyes swept over her family, then Jimmy and his parents, then Mireet and Artimus, then to the rows beyond. She spotted Athena Esmeralda, the headmistress at Salem. Some of her former teachers had also turned out for the memorial, including Miss Venatici, the History of Magic teacher, and Mrs. Elmenbrooke, the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. Many of her former classmates sat clumped together to her left. Dante Marshall, Ursa Oberlin, Penelope Hale, Abigail Aguirre, Mario Hernandez.

The shaking in her legs grew more violent. Rosa clenched the sides of the podium, her throat clenching as she felt countless eyes on her.

She dropped her head. She wouldn't be able to get through this if she looked at all those familiar faces. Instead she focused on the piece of parchment she unfolded, the one that contained the speech she spent nearly two days writing.

"Um, Aunt Liana . . ."

Her eyes blurred with tears. She tried to blink them away. They wouldn't go.

_Dammit! _Anger flashed through her. Why did Aunt Liana have to die? She was one of the best aurors ever. People like that shouldn't die in a battle. The two of them should be sitting in the living room exchanging war stories. She shouldn't be reading at her aunt's memorial.

Rosa looked up . . . _No. Don't look at anyone. _She lifted her eyes to the brilliant blue sky, forgetting all about the speech she worked so hard on.

"When I was little, I thought being an auror was all about excitement and adventure. But Aunt Liana was one of the people who showed me that being an auror was much, much more than that. It was about dedicating yourself to a cause greater than you. It was about protecting those unable to protect themselves. It was about defending the principles and beliefs that every law abiding witch and wizard holds dear. And that's what my Aunt Liana did. Because of her, I'm a better person, and I'll always be grateful for everything she ever did for me."

She walked away from the podium without making eye contact with anyone, even her parents. She fretted her off-the-cuff, from-the-heart speech hadn't been good enough, that it didn't properly honor Aunt Liana.

Head down, she took her seat, keeping her eyes focused on the ground as somebody from the Guild of the Light spoke about Aunt Liana.

Someone gently squeezed her hand. Rosa looked over and saw her mother staring at her with glistening eyes.

"That was very good, honey."

Rosa didn't trust her voice enough to respond. Instead she scooted up against her mother and put her head on her shoulder, closing her eyes, struggling not to cry in front of the entire world.

**XXXXX**

Once the speeches were over, the spiritual advisor took his wand and lit a small flame in front of Aunt Liana's monument. Everyone then proceeded down the hill to Uncle Irving's and Aunt Li . . . Uncle Irving's house. A little smile creased Rosa's lips. It took a lot of work, but the house bore no signs of the damage the Death Eaters had down to it during the war.

Some people congregated in little groups. Others wandered past walls and cabinets that displayed pictures of Aunt Liana. Rosa noticed Jared staring longingly at one of them. It featured him, Uncle Irving and Aunt Liana at Salem's graduation ceremony two years ago. Esteban walked over and patted his younger brother on the shoulder. Jared barely acknowledged him. Instead he kept staring at the picture.

Rosa took a step toward them, then stopped, her eyes running up and down the pictures lining the wall. She retreated and closed her eyes. She didn't want to be that close to so many photographs of Aunt Liana. It would only remind her of a part of her life gone forever.

She wandered into the kitchen, staring at the table lined from one end to the other with all sorts of food and drink. She felt nauseous just staring at it. Rosa couldn't help but shake her head. A month ago she would have dove on a table like this, grabbing food by the handful and shoving it in her mouth. Now it was hard to think about food. With no war to occupy her mind, and being in a house she considered her second home, Aunt Liana's death hit her even harder, became more real to her.

That seemed to be the case with the rest of the family. She noticed Dad and her grandfather off to one side of the kitchen, both wearing solemn expressions. Mom and Uncle Irving were in another corner of the kitchen, Mom talking while Uncle Irving appeared on the verge of tears.

Rosa leaned against the wall, slowly scanning the people in the house. A hole opened in her stomach. How many other families around the country were holding similar memorials, or would have them soon? She had a list of other services she'd be attending over the next several days. Tomorrow was the one for the Rollingsworth family. Two days after she'd be at the one for Mr. Lymstock, her and Jared's old Muggle Studies teacher. The day after that she'd be going to Gregory Lancemore's memorial. Sure their break-up a few years ago had been less-than-cordial, but they had been together once, and they both fought at the Battle of Helghorst Island. Ex-boyfriend or not, she felt obligated to attend.

There were other memorials she wished she could have attended. Ones in Britain. She closed her teary eyes, thinking of poor Mrs. Tonks. The war had robbed her of her husband, her daughter and her son-in-law. Rosa couldn't bring herself to count the witch's sister, one Bellatrix LeStrange. She had been one of the most vicious Death Eaters in England, and met her end at the hands of George Weasley's mother.

_George. _Her heart ached thinking about him. How much pain must he be in right now? The whole Weasley family, for that matter? She still couldn't believe Fred was dead. He just had this indestructible air about him.

_So did Aunt Liana._

Her jaw trembled. She desperately wanted to be in England right now, comforting George any way she could.

"Hey, Rosa." Someone placed a hand on her shoulder. She turned to find Jimmy's mother aiming a sympathetic smile at her.

"Hi, Mrs. O'Bannon."

"You did a good job at the service. Those were some very nice things you said about your aunt."

"Thank you. I just . . . I don't know. Part of me feels like I should have said more."

"I think what you said was fine." Mrs. O'Bannon hugged her. "She was a good person. I'll always appreciate everything she did for my family. She really went out of her way to make us feel welcome in this world."

"Thank you. She was always happy to help you and Jimmy and Mr. O'Bannon. She really loved you guys."

Mrs. O'Bannon sniffled and hugged her tighter. When they broke their embrace, Rosa drew a breath. "So, um, are you guys all settled in?"

"We're getting there. It feels weird going back to our jobs after nine months in the middle of nowhere. And I really need to thank your family again, for using all those spells to make our friends and family, and our bosses, think we haven't been gone for so long, and for fixing up our house after those damn Death Eaters trashed it."

"It's like I said. We're always happy to help you guys." Rosa found her voice trailing off.

Mrs. O'Bannon cocked an eyebrow. "Rosa? Are you okay?"

She sighed. "Yeah. It's just . . . when you mentioned your house, I couldn't help but think about the first time I stayed over there." Her jaw tightened for a second. "I remember when I came back home, I came over here to see Aunt Liana, and I got so excited telling her about all the stuff I saw at your place, like the microwave oven and the garbage disposal and Mr. O'Bannon's cell phone and Jimmy's video games, and she was so interested in all that stuff and we sat in the kitchen for hours having cookies and butterbeer and talking and laughing and . . ."

Rosa looked away, biting her lip. The lump in her throat threatened to choke her. She shivered when the realization hit her. This was all she'd have of Aunt Liana now. Memories.

Mrs. O'Bannon hugged her again. Somehow, Rosa found the strength not to cry. "You'll get through this, honey. Remember, you have a lot of people who care about you."

"Thank you," she croaked out.

The afternoon dragged on. More people came up to her, telling her how bad they felt over Aunt Liana's death and what a wonderful witch she'd been. Then most of them would ask that dreaded question, "How are you holding up?"

"Okay," she usually muttered back. That, of course, was a lie, and she doubted most of the people she talked to bought it. But she sure as hell couldn't tell them how she really felt. How she lost a second mother, how at times she felt empty inside, how it broke her heart to see how despondent Jared and Esteban and Uncle Irving looked, how anger sometimes swallowed up her sorrow and screamed for release. But with the war over, with no Death Eaters to fight, she had no outlet for that anger.

No. She couldn't tell anyone here how she really felt. She knew what would happen if she did, and she'd be damned if she'd break down in front of a house full of people.

Soon witches and wizards began filing out of the house, first friends or colleagues of Aunt Liana's, then many of Rosa's former classmates, then several family members. By late afternoon, the only guests still around were her surviving grandparents, Jimmy and his parents, Artimus and Mireet. Relief flooded through her. She managed to get through the entire day without crying.

"You sure you don't want any help, Adelaide?" Mrs. O'Bannon asked Rosa's mother.

"No thank you, Ellen. I can manage." With a wave of her wand, Mom cleared the plates, goblets and remnants of food from the table.

"Hey." Jimmy came up to Rosa and put a hand on her shoulder. Artimus stood next to him. "You need anything, I'm just an owl or Floo call away."

"Me, too." Artimus nodded.

"As am I." Mireet joined them. "We are all here for you and Jared, and the rest of your family."

Rosa choked back a sob. Tears built up in her eyes to the bursting point. How did someone like her become so blessed to have friends like these?

"Thank you, guys." She pushed the words through her clenched throat and hugged the three of them. Jared started to walk over to them when someone knocked on the front door.

"I'll get it," Oriana announced. She strode over to the door and opened it. A hawkish-looking man with slicked back dark hair and wire-rimmed glasses stood just outside the doorway.

Rosa's eyes widened in recognition as the man spoke.

"Good evening. I'm sorry to intrude, but I wonder if I could speak with Mister and Mrs. Infante."

Oriana gaped at the man. Rosa couldn't blame her. How many other people could say they had a personal visit from Oswald Lemmingwilkes, the New England Region's representative to the Continental Wizarding Legislature?

"Um, yes, of course." Oriana stepped to the side. "Please, come in. My aunt and uncle are in the kitchen. I'll go fetch them."

Lemmingwilkes smiled as he entered the living room, his eyes sweeping over everyone. Rosa noticed his stare lingered on the O'Bannons, no doubt due to their Muggle clothing. His face lit up when he spotted Artimus.

"Artimus Rand? Merlin's beard, it's been a long time since I saw you. I can't believe you're already graduated from Salem." He pumped Artimus' hand. "How are you? How's your father?"

Artimus stared at Lemmingwilkes, unsmiling. "I'm doing well, considering. As for my father, I haven't spoken to him since I graduated. We . . . had a falling out."

Some of the light vanished from Lemmingwilkes' face. "Oh yes. I forgot about that. My apologies." He then turned to Jimmy. "And I recognize you from your picture in _The All-Seeing Eye. _Jimmy O'Bannon, right?"

"Uh-huh." He shook Lemmingwilkes hand, regarding him with more than a little suspicion.

_Why not? The guy is a politician._

"And you must be Jimmy's parents." Lemmingwilkes gave the O'Bannons hearty, double-handed handshakes. "You know, my great-grandfather was Muggle-born. You must be very proud of your son. He's credit to Muggle-borns everywhere."

"He is a credit to _all wizards_ everywhere." Mireet folded her arms and gave the legislator a displeased look.

Lemmingwilkes gave her an embarrassed smile. "Yes, of course. You're right."

Before he could say anything, Mom and Dad entered the living room, followed by Uncle Irving. All three wore surprised expressions.

"Representative Lemmingwilkes." Dad ambled over to the man, his new artificial leg hitting the carpeted floor with a dull _thunk._ "To what do we owe the pleasure?"

"Well, I was a bit hesitant to come here today. I knew you were holding a memorial for Liana. My apologies for not being able to come earlier. You can imagine all the work necessary to rebuild the Department of Magic. You have my condolences. Liana was a fine witch."

"Thank you, Sir," both Mom and Dad responded.

"As I said, I didn't want to intrude on such an emotional day for all of you, but this is very big news I have for the both of you."

"What is it?" Mom asked.

"Well, given how sensitive this all is at the moment, perhaps we should keep this news just among your family, until we're ready for a public announcement." Lemmingwilkes gazed at the O'Bannons, Mireet and Artimus, still smiling, but his eyes urging them to leave.

"Everyone in this house _is _family." Mom folded her arms and narrowed her eyes at the legislator. Rosa couldn't help but smile. She'd been on the receiving end of that stare numerous times in her life. It was nice to see Mom targeting someone else with it for a change.

Lemmingwilkes cleared his throat and offered another embarrassed smile. "Ah, yes. Forgive me. I meant no disrespect."

He gave the 'non-family members' a slight bow. Mireet closed her eyes, lifted her chin and looked away. Artimus aimed his gaze at the floor. Both Mr. and Mrs. Bannon's faces scrunched in annoyance. Anger lines dug into the skin around Jimmy's nose as he gave Lemmingwilkes a look of disdain.

"Well, anyway." The legislator regained his composure. "I'm sure you're aware of the monumental task that lies ahead of us. The war has left the Department of Magic in shambles. Entire offices and bureaus have been wiped out. Half the Continental Wizarding Legislature were killed. We have entire communities reduced to ash, many wizards and witches displaced, children orphaned, a number of our schools destroyed or badly damaged. It's going to take a lot of work to rebuild Wizarding America, and we need strong leadership in order to get that done."

"Isn't that what the Secretary of Magic is for?" asked Esteban.

"Yes, but Secretary Ruddiger won't be Secretary of Magic much longer."

Dad cranked an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

Lemmingwilkes frowned. "The war has left Secretary Ruddiger a broken man. The last few days he's been sitting in a makeshift office, staring at the wall, muttering, 'My fault. My fault.' Some of my fellow legislators have convinced Ruddiger to step down. Quite frankly, even if the Secretary still possessed all his faculties, we would ask him to step down. Most of the wizarding population has no confidence in him any more, not after this uprising occurred on his watch."

Rosa nodded. She felt the same way. Hell, she never thought much of Secretary Ruddiger even before the uprising.

"What we need is someone who can get things done, someone who not only saw a lot of combat, but also proved himself as a leader. In short, Cesario, we want you to be Secretary of Magic."

The words hit Rosa like an invisible fist. The breath stuck in her throat. Did she hear Lemmingwilkes correct? She wanted Dad to be Secretary of Magic?

"Me? Secretary of Magic?" Doubt riddled Dad's tone. "You're serious?"

"Very."

"Mister Lemmingwilkes, I'm not a politician, I'm an auror."

"So was Kingsley Shacklebolt in Britain. Now he's their interim Minister of Magic. And with your . . . er, injury, I hate to say it, but your days of working in the field are over."

"I don't need you to remind me of that." Dad's eyes blazed at the Lemmingwilkes.

"My apologies." The legislator held up his hands. "I didn't mean to sound so . . . insensative. But you were one of the main planners of the second attack on Helghorst Island. You helped rebuild the Guild of the Light after the first attack on that island. As I said, we need a leader who can get things done, and you have proven you can do that."

Dad sighed, then looked at Mom. Her jaw flexed from side-to-side. After a few seconds of silence, he turned back to Lemmingwilkes. "So how does this work? You just go before a bunch of reporters and tell them, 'Hey. Here's Cesario Infante. We're making him the new Secretary of Magic whether you like it or not.'"

"Oh, no, no. Nothing like that. Your appointment is dependant on a vote by the remaining members of the Continental Wizarding Legislature. Though I can tell you right now, your approval would be a mere formality."

Dad sneered. "Look, _Mister _Lemmingwilkes. I fought a war, _two wars, _in fact, to stop a wizard who wanted to be a dictator. I didn't lose family, friends _and _a part of my body just so _I _could become a dictator myself."

"And that's the last thing we want. In fact, your response proves you're the perfect choice for Secretary of Magic. If any of us in the Legislature assumed that mantle, chances are we'd let the power go to our heads, and do things that would increase our personal political power instead of helping rebuild the country."

"'All power corrupts, but absolute power corrupts absolutely.'"

Lemmingwilkes gave Jimmy a curious stare. "I'm sorry?"

"That's a quote from a Muggle named Lord Acton. My friends in Britain experienced that first-hand with their former dumbass Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge. He cared about holding on to his office more than he did about warning the Wizarding World the moment You-Know-Who returned, because it would upset the comfortable little world he built, and because he was afraid to make hard decisions because he might piss off too many people and they'd boot him out of office. And _he _wound up becoming a dictator himself, stamping out every hint of opposition he could, and going after anyone who publicly admitted You-Know-Who was back. If it weren't for him, a lot of people would still be alive."

Jimmy took a breath and continued. "I just got done fighting a war, but I'm gonna tell you this, Mister Lemmingwilkes. If some power-hungry wizard or witch wants to use the office of Secretary of Magic to make themselves a dictator, I'll personally lead the revolt against them."

"And we'll be right there with you, Jimmy." Rosa looked around at Jared, Artimus, Mireet, Esteban and Oriana. They all nodded. Mr. and Mrs. O'Bannon stared at their son in astonishment. They probably never heard Jimmy speak like that.

Lemmingwilkes turned back to Rosa's parents. "See? This is why we need someone like you as Secretary of Magic, Cesario. If we put the wrong person in there, if he or she uses that office to take advantage of this situation, to grab all the power they can, we're going to have a wizarding civil war on our hands. And we haven't even begun to recover from _this _war. Cesario, you are the right man for this job, mainly because you _don't want it._"

Dad gazed around at everyone in the living room. His shoulders rose and fell with slow breaths. "My title will be _Interim _Secretary of Magic, correct?"

"Yes."

"Okay. If I accept, the first thing announcement I make is that this time next year, we will hold elections for a permanent Secretary of Magic."

Lemmingwilkes winced. "A year? Given all the work we have to do that may not -"

"This time next year," Dad said each word deliberately. "We will have elections."

The legislator frowned for a moment, then nodded. "Agreed."

Dad smiled. "Good. Of course, all this is dependent on whether or not my family wants me to have this job."

"Of course we do," Rosa blurted. "Or at least I do."

Jared, Esteban and Oriana all voiced their support. Uncle Irving just nodded.

"You got my vote, Mister Infante," said Jimmy.

"Yeah. Same here." Artimus nodded.

Mireet smiled. "I may not be a citizen of the United States, but I would trust you to lead this country, and lead it well."

Mr. O'Bannon shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "Well, I'm not sure how much a Muggle's opinion matters in all this, but I think you'd make a good Secretary of Magic."

Mrs. O'Bannon nodded in agreement with her husband.

Finally, Dad looked to Mom, who smiled at him. "You know you can trust me to make sure you don't get a big head being the leader of Wizarding America."

A huge grin formed on Dad's face. He kissed Mom on the lips and looked to Lemmingwilkes. "All right, Mister Lemmingwilkes. You've got yourself a new Secretary of Magic."

"Excellent." The legislator clapped his hands together and Mom and Dad hugged one another. "Oh! And we haven't forgotten your wife in all this. Adelaide, you more than anyone know how many witches and wizards the Aurors Bureau lost. Given everything you did during the war, the Legislature thinks you'd make an excellent Director of the U.S. Aurors Bureau."

Mom gaped at the news. Rosa slapped both hands over her mouth in surprise.

Mom looked up at Dad, then smiled at Lemmingwilkes. "I'm . . . I'm honored. You can tell the Legislature I accept."

Everyone converged on Mom and Dad, hugging them and slapping them on the back. Joy and pride swept through Rosa as she wrapped her arms tightly around her parents. Merlin's beard, she could hardly believe this. Mom, Director of the Aurors Bureau, and Dad, Secretary of Magic. Secretary of friggin' Magic! She couldn't help but jump up and down as she hugged Jared.

"Can you believe this?" she squealed. "Is this awesome or what?"

"Tell me about it. I never thought I'd have a relative who was Secretary of Magic."

"I know, I know." Rosa released him and looked around at her joyous family as they surrounded her parents. "Oh man, what do you think Aunt Liana will say when she . . ."

Every muscle in her body froze. Jared stared at her, seeming unable to blink. One by one, the voices around her faded. One by one, stunned gazes turned her way.

_Merlin's beard. Merlin's beard, how . . . _How could she forget her aunt was dead? She gave a speech at the memorial, what, five, six hours ago?

An image formed in her mind, of Aunt Liana in the middle of this celebration, congratulating both her parents. For an insane moment, Rosa scanned the crowd, wanting the image to be real.

_It won't be real. She's gone._

_She's gone!_

Tears blurred her vision. She tried to swallow, but couldn't.

"Rosa." Mom stepped toward her. "Rosa, honey. It's okay."

She shook her head. "No it's not, Mom. It's not okay. It'll never be okay!"

She spun around and headed for the front door. She had to get outside before . . .

Rosa managed three steps before she collapsed to the floor and bawled her eyes out.

_**TO BE CONTINUED**_


	30. What If?

**CHAPTER 30: WHAT IF?**

* * *

Jimmy O'Bannon took his time putting on his dress robes, as if dressing slowly would delay the inevitable. He groaned and stared at the digital clock on his dresser. He could dress as slow as he wanted. It wouldn't change the fact that come 11 o'clock, the memorial service for the Rollingsworth family would begin.

He stood in front of the mirror, fumbling with his dark tie, barely looking at how he knotted it. A quiver went through his stomach and up his throat. He pictured Rana back at Salem, smiling that always beautiful smile of hers. Instead of bringing him joy, it sent a dagger of pain through his heart.

He closed his eyes. Yesterday's memorial service for Mrs. Diaz had been hard enough. He prayed he could stay just as strong today and make it through the service for his former girlfriend.

"_Oh the things they did to them. The more he talked, the more I wish I had been there."_

O'Bannon closed his eyes and pressed his hands against his temples, trying to force Merak Mather's voice out of his head.

"_One of the Death Eaters used an Imperius Curse on Lawrence Rollingsworth and made him go after Rana and . . . well, let's just say the things he did to her, no father should do to their own daughter."_

"Shut up," he growled. "Shut up."

He clenched his teeth. He couldn't think about that night in the woods, not today.

Clear as day, he envisioned Mather laughing hysterically as he talked about Rana being raped and murdered.

He held back a scream, stomping from one end of his bedroom to the other. Slime-sucking piece of crap Merak Mather. He wanted the son-of-a-bitch to come back to life so he could kill him again. Better yet, he wanted all the Death Eaters who had murdered Rana and her parents here. He'd blast them with Reductor Curses . . . after he spent a few hours making them scream in agony from Cruciatus Curses.

Someone knocked on the door.

"Come in," he said, more abruptly than he intended.

The door opened. Mireet stepped into the bedroom, lines of concern etched in her clear face. "Jimmy. Are you all right?"

"Yeah, yeah. I'm fine."

Mireet's brow crinkled. She tilted her head, giving him that look that said she didn't believe him.

His shoulders slumped. "No, I'm not fine. It's just going to this . . ."

O'Bannon's lips tightened. How in the hell could he explain to Mireet what he felt right now? He wanted the French witch to be his girlfriend, yet here he was, going to a memorial for his former girlfriend. And he couldn't deny the fact that part of him still carried a torch for Rana.

He turned away from Mireet, feeling embarrassed, confused, even a bit guilty.

She crossed the bedroom and stopped in front of him. "I . . . I know Rana was very important to you at one point in your life. I can only imagine how hard this must be for you."

"Yeah," was all he could say. He looked up at Mireet, who wore dark dress robes and had her hair in a bun. She gave him a sympathetic smile and gently squeezed his hand. Tingles shot through his body. He gazed at her beautiful face and sighed softly, thinking back to that night in her apartment two weeks ago. They'd been on the verge of a very special night, of starting to build a life together. Then the owl arrived with Ginny's letter. Along with mourning for Fred and Tonks and all the others who died in Britain, they also had many people in this country to mourn. They attended so many – _too many - _funerals and memorials, which mainly served to remind them that certain people they cared about were no longer in their lives. Such an atmosphere made it impossible to think about romance.

"Oh. Your tie. Here, let me." Mireet reached out and began fixing his tie. "I sometimes do this with my father. He is hopeless when it comes to ties."

O'Bannon managed a smile at the comment.

Mireet stood back and examined her handiwork. "There. That is much better."

"Thanks." He bit his lip and lowered his eyes momentarily. "So, um . . . so I guess we should get going?"

Mireet just nodded. Taking her by the hand, he led her out of his bedroom and down the hall, passing the guest bedroom where she had spent the night. Since Mireet had delivered recordings of _Potterwatch_ to the Rollingsworths for their own pirate radio show, she felt obliged to attend the memorial. Mom and Dad offered her the guest bedroom so she wouldn't have to Floo back to her apartment in Washington, only to Floo back here today.

They cast Perception Altering Charms around themselves so any of O'Bannon's Muggle neighbors who saw them would think they were dressed in "normal" clothes instead of wizard formal garb. They walked down the street, a breeze rustling the leaves of the numerous trees lining the suburban Boston neighborhood. He nudged Mireet as they approached a house near the corner and nodded to the big RV sitting in the driveway. They slipped between it and the hedges bordering the yard of the other house and Apparated.

A bowl-shaped stadium with towering grandstands topped with pennants fluttering in the wind stood before them. Hundreds of wizards and witches crowded the massive lawn around the home field of the USQA's Boston Bandits. Floating signs with pointing fingers hovered over the mass of humanity, reading "FANS" and "FAMILY" and "FRIENDS." They followed the pointing finger for the "FRIENDS" sign, weaving their way through the crowd.

"Jimmy! Mireet!" someone called out.

He looked to one of the large Romanesque archways leading into the stadium and spotted Artimus waving to them. Jared and Rosa stood next to him.

They made their way over to the trio. O'Bannon winced when he noticed Rosa's face. Her eyes were red and her face lacked any vibrancy. She looked like she barely got any sleep last night. Not that it surprised him, given the breakdown she had following her aunt's memorial.

"Um . . ." He worked his jaw back and forth as he stared at Rosa. "You, um, you doing okay?"

"I'll be fine," she muttered.

O'Bannon doubted that, but from the look on her face, he decided it was best not to press the matter.

"Um, I saw a lot of our old classmates already," Artimus noted. "Abigail's here, and so are Dante and Ursa and Mario. I even saw Miss Venatici."

O'Bannon nodded silently, his eyes drifting toward the entrance. Seven years of memories from Salem flashed through his mind, all involving Rana. One particular memory lingered. The Halloween Dance their Seventh Year, the night of their first kiss.

His chest tightened as he recalled the sensation of Rana's soft, moist lips pressed against his. Tears formed in the edges of his eyes. How the hell was he going to get through this?

"So, um, should we head on in?" Jared asked, a hesitant note to his voice.

O'Bannon sighed. "Yeah, let's go."

With Mireet in hand, he led the group into the stadium. He halted and looked around the concourse as wizards and witches moved to and fro. His eyes fixed on a spot near one of the tall, arched windows looking outside. His mind flung him back five years ago, when the Diazes and Infantes invited him and his parents to a Boston Bandits/New York Nightmares match. They had run into Rana, who practically jumped up and down as she told his mom and dad how much they would enjoy Quidditch.

"_After you watch one game of Quidditch, you'll think all Muggle sports are boring . . . especially hockey." Rana looked at O'Bannon with an elfish grin and a mischievous gleam in her eye._

_His eyes widened in mock offense. "Well I don't know about the rest of you, but I'm not going to stand here and listen to a Seeker who couldn't find the Snitch without a seeing-eye dog insult the greatest sport ever invented."_

_Rana's jaw dropped. She pretended to look hurt for a second before she burst into laughter._

Something dark intruded on his memory. A cloaked figure swooped down on Rana and pushed her to the ground. She screamed and writhed under the black-clad attacker. O'Bannon gaped at the scene, wanting to help Rana, but unable to move.

"Jimmy?" A French-accented voice cut through his nightmare vision. "Jimmy."

He flinched and turned to Mireet. Concern radiated from her eyes.

"Sorry. Just . . . Just thinking. C'mon, let's go find some seats."

He led them through the concourse, praying none of his friends would ask why he'd just zoned out.

Thankfully, they didn't.

The five climbed a long wooden staircase to one of the tall grandstands. Half the seats were taken up by former members of the Blazenrowe, Ardenturo, Jingosocke and Krallenhurst Hall Quidditch teams from Salem. The quartet shook hands with or hugged many of the ex-players before finding a row where they could all sit together.

The stands filled quickly. O'Bannon scanned the stadium. Three of the grandstands were packed with Bandit fans, most of whom wore clothing featuring the team's colors of red and black. Several carried large portraits of the Rollingsworth family, including images of Rana's parents back in their playing days. Billboard-sized banners rose between the grandstands, bearing moving images of the Rollingsworths. His gaze focused on a banner featuring Rana in her Blazenrowe Hall Quidditch robes, holding up a Golden Snitch and smiling. He swallowed. She looked so beautiful.

_How could they have done all those things to her? How!?_

Merak Mather's words and sick laughter echoed in his head again.

_Stop it. Stop it! Not here, you bastard!_

He looked away from Rana's banner, shutting his eyes tight, willing the horrible thoughts to go away.

The cacophony of voices tailed off as a portly witch in gray robes strode across the grass below and took up position at a podium in the center of the Quidditch field.

"Ladies and gentlemen." The wizarding spiritual advisor's magically amplified voice boomed throughout the stadium. "On behalf of the Rollingsworth family and the Boston Bandits, I welcome you to today's memorial to honor three very special people."

The spiritual advisor took a breath before continuing. "The Rollingsworth name has been synonymous with Quidditch in the United States for decades. Both Lawrence and Corona were superb players in their day. Lawrence led the Philadelphia Warhammers to two USQA Championships, while Corona is still one of the top ten goal scorers in Bandits history. Later on, of course, they proved to be superb businesspeople as well, buying the Bandits and making them into one of the best teams in the league. But Quidditch wasn't the only thing that mattered in their lives. They gave to many charitable causes. They encouraged their players to help those less fortunate. They also cherished freedom, so much so they gave their lives in its defense. These values were also passed on to their beautiful daughter Rana, a young woman whose kindness and generosity and vitality were taken from us much too soon."

O'Bannon tuned out the rest of the witch's words. He lowered his head and stared at his folded hands.

"_Kindness . . . generosity . . . vitality."_

Those words certainly summed up Rana. He wanted to add one other word to it. Trust. She showed that trait during their final year at Salem. When most of the school refused to believe him about Voldemort's return, she did. She trusted him enough to risk alienation and ridicule from other students. Looking back, it had been one of the things that made him fall so quickly for her.

In the end, though, her faith in him couldn't save their relationship. He scowled, thinking about Serinta Sejant and her damn Projection Potion. Had it not been for that . . .

_Who's to say we'd still be together?_ Rana was coming off a break-up with her long-time boyfriend, Darius Forten, and O'Bannon was trying to move past his crush on Mireet, who at the time he thought he'd never see again. Rosa had told him more than once that rebound relationships never lasted long. "And I speak from experience," she added.

But could they have defied the odds? After all, he and Rana had been friends long before they became a couple.

_I'll never know now, will I? All because I had to be a butthead and not speak to her until . . ._

His insides froze. He couldn't breathe as a horrible realization set in. What if he had spoken to Rana shortly after their break-up? What if they had patched things up and decided to give their relationship another go? She had believed him from the start about Lord Voldemort's return. He could have included her in the quartet's activities to aid the Guild of the Light and the Order of the Phoenix. That work could have brought them closer together. They might still be together. She might . . .

_Oh my God. Oh my God._

It was his fault Rana was dead.

**XXXXX**

O'Bannon barely spoke at dinner. He didn't eat much, either. Half the time he just moved his roast beef and mashed potatoes around the plate. Both Mom and Mireet asked if he was all right.

"I'll be fine," he borrowed Rosa's line from earlier today. Not that either woman believed him, judging by the concerned looks on their faces. Thankfully, they didn't say anything to him. After a while he forced himself to eat more, partly because he didn't want Mom and Mireet to worry any more about him, and partly because nine months living in the mountains taught him the importance of eating every morsel of food.

After dinner, Mireet gathered her bags and stood by the fireplace, kissing O'Bannon's cheeks in typical French fashion.

"You will Floo me if you need anything, right?" she asked, hope radiating from her face.

"Yeah. No problem."

Mireet bit her lower lip. She gave his hand one last gentle squeeze before Flooing back to Washington. He stared into the mouth of the fireplace long after the green flames dissipated.

Mom stepped over to him and put an arm around his shoulders. "She really cares about you, you know that?"

"Uh-huh."

Mom tried to force a smile. "I can see why you asked her to that Yule Ball. She's a wonderful girl."

"Uh-huh." Frustration boiled inside him. Mom was right. Mireet was wonderful. More than wonderful. And he loved her.

Yet for most of the day all he could think of was Rana.

"I'll be up in my room." He slipped from his mother's grasp and trudged toward the stairs.

"Jimmy. If you need to talk, your father and I are always here."

He stopped. Talk? To them? How the hell could he? How could he look Mom and Dad in the eye and tell them their son had threatened to use a Cruciatus Curse on a little girl, or that he beat a former classmate to death, or that he suffocated a woman, even when her eyes pleaded with him to stop? How could they ever look at him the same way again? What if they became afraid of him? What if . . . what if they never wanted to see him again?

No. No way could he tell his parents about what had happened during the past nine months.

"I know." He glanced over his shoulder at them. "I'll be all right. I'm just . . . I'm just gonna go relax."

O'Bannon headed upstairs and into his bedroom, closing the door behind him. He leaned against it, staring at the bed, sighing. If he just laid down, he'd only think about Rana, and how she might be alive if he had done things differently two-and-a-half years ago.

He groaned and looked around his bedroom, his gaze falling on his computer. He chewed on his lip. _Should I? _He'd been meaning to do it for a while, but so much had been going on over the last two weeks he kept putting it off.

_If I do it, it'll just depress me further._

No. He had some time. He needed to do it. Just a few short words. That's all he'd need to do. A few short words would probably be all he could manage for this.

O'Bannon exhaled loudly and shuffled over to the desk and turned on his computer. Normally he'd do this on parchment with a quill. But he hadn't had a chance to buy any new parchment since the war ended, so he'd have to write these letters the Muggle way, which in some ways was more efficient. He'd also have to use the post office in Milmothryn Market to mail them. He'd left his owl, Espo, in his apartment the day the uprising began, and his place had been among the many buildings in Haypippil Square burned down by the Death Eaters. He assumed Espo died in that fire.

_My God, I even lost my owl in this war. _His head drooped. He'd had Espo since his very first year at Salem.

Taking a few deep breaths, he pushed his chair closer to the keyboard, fingers poised over buttons. Jaw set, he slowly began to type.

_Dear Mr. and Mrs. Creevey and Dennis,_

_I am so sorry to hear about Colin's death. I got to know Colin during my time at Hogwarts. He was a very friendly and enthusiastic person and made my experience at Hogwarts that much more enjoyable._

His fingers stilled. A memory flashed in his mind.

* * *

O'Bannon let out a sigh of relief as he stared down at his Transfiguration essay. Two hours it had taken him to finish the damn thing. He prayed all that time and effort equated to a good grade. That wasn't a sure thing with a teacher like Professor McGonagall. But least she was more fair-minded than his jagoff Potions teacher, Snape.

He gathered up his quills, parchment and books and started for the stairs leading to the boys' dormitory. As he crossed the Gryffindor Common Room, he passed a table occupied by the short, mousy-haired Creevey brothers, waving their wands over a pile of badges. He'd met the older brother, Colin, the day Harry Potter participated in his hockey club. Colin had stood on the banks of the frozen pond snapping pictures of the famous young wizard. The kid's whole life seemed dedicated to hero-worshipping Harry Potter. O'Bannon wondered if the younger brother, Dennis, was any different.

"What are you guys up to?" he asked.

Colin looked up, beaming. "Oh. Hi, Jimmy. We're trying to fix these badges. I can't believe people are wearing them. I mean, people outside of Slytherin, of course."

O'Bannon picked up one of the badges and frowned when he recognized it. POTTER STINKS, it read. Several Hogwarts students, mainly from Hufflepuff and Slytherin, had been wearing these things for the past couple of weeks, thinking Harry cheated his way into the Tri-Wizard Tournament.

"So how goes it?"

Colin's smile dimmed just a bit. "Not well. We're trying to make the badges read 'Support Harry Potter.' But, well . . ." He held up a badge. The corners of O'Bannon's mouth curled when he read it.

POTTER REALLY STINKS.

"I guess you got a little bit more work to do, huh?"

"Yeah, but don't worry. We'll get it right. Won't we, Dennis?"

"You bet." Dennis nodded enthusiastically.

O'Bannon couldn't help but smile. He felt the Creeveys had an uphill battle trying to properly charm these badges. But he admired the brothers' resolute spirit. He couldn't stand people who gave up when things got tough. Colin didn't strike him as the most gifted wizard around, but he couldn't fault the kid's work ethic and enthusiasm.

* * *

O'Bannon slumped in his chair and stared at the screen. How the hell does someone like Colin Creevey die in a war? Why did he die? What bloodthirsty psychotic bastard would kill someone like Colin, who wasn't a threat to anyone?

He clicked the print icon, set the letter to the side, then opened a new blank document. His chest tightened as his fingers hovered over the keyboard. He couldn't do this one. Not yet.

He wrote his next letter to the family of Jimmy Peakes. Then he wrote to Harry Potter, giving his condolences on Dobby's death. He figured Harry was the closest thing to family the little house elf had.

To his surprise, he thought about Professor Snape. He still couldn't believe everything that came out about him. His former Potions teacher had been working for the Order of the Phoenix all along, and killed Dumbledore per the old Headmaster's instructions, as a cursed ring was killing him anyway, and Dumbledore wished to spare Draco Malfoy the burden of murdering him, believing, for some reason, the ferrety little bastard's soul was worth saving.

_Does he even have any family I can write to?_ Snape had turned out to be a hero, after all.

He bit his lip, thinking back to his year at Hogwarts, and how horribly Snape treated him and the rest of the Gryffindors. Had it all been an act for Lord Voldemort's benefit, or was he truly a miserable bastard who delighted in making his students' lives hell? And what about his reign as Headmaster at Hogwarts? How much torture had he allowed to take place? How many of his friends suffered during the past nine months? Why hadn't Snape done more to stop it?

_Maybe he just didn't give a crap about them. _Ginny's letter had explained that Snape's primary reason for switching sides had to do with Voldemort killing Harry's mother. Snape, it turned out, had been in love Lily Potter, a fact O'Bannon still had trouble accepting. He never thought Snape capable of loving anybody.

So he didn't join the Order of the Phoenix out of a sense of duty to protect the Wizarding World, or to fight for values like freedom and the sanctity of life, or because it was simply the right thing to do. No. He only opposed Voldemort because he was pissed the evil SOB killed a woman he loved, who could never love him back.

_Thanks for you help. Now rot in hell._

O'Bannon flexed his fingers, his stomach quivering. The time had come to write these last two letters, the ones he'd been dreading. With a nervous swallow, he began to type.

_Dear Mr. & Mrs. Weasley, George, Ginny, Ron, Bill, Charlie, Percy, Harry & Fleur,_

_I am so sorry to hear about Fred's death –_

Delete.

_Please let me express my condolences on Fred's death –_

Delete.

_I don't have the words to express how sorry I feel –_

Delete.

He slammed his palm on the wooden desk and snorted in frustration. Why was this so hard? He had gotten through the sympathy letters to the Creevey and Peakes families all right.

He saved the document, minimized it, then started a new one.

_Dear Mrs. Tonks,_

_I'm so sorry about the deaths of your husband and Tonks –_

Delete.

_Let me offer my condolences –_

Delete.

_Please know you have my sympathies for your losses. Tonks was –_

His fingers froze over the keyboard. It was all in his head and in his heart what Tonks meant to him. So why the hell couldn't he say it? The woman had saved his life more than once, always treated him as an equal instead of some punk kid. She'd been funny and smart and helpful, and had unwavering faith in him.

He pressed his hands over his eyes, remembering the night they made love. He could feel her firm, slender body against his, their fierce kissing and the softness of her hair against his cheek. A lump formed in his throat when he recalled that blissful feeling he had when they held one another after their love-making.

O'Bannon exhaled loudly and glowered at the computer screen. Why couldn't he do this? Just a few words of sympathy to the family of one of his best friends and to the mother of a woman who'd been a friend, mentor and lover. Was that so friggin' hard? Fred and Tonks had both meant a lot to him. What the hell kind of friend was he if he couldn't come up with one damn sentence to let their families know that?

Why was he even writing these letters? Why were Fred and Tonks dead to begin with? They'd both been daring, skilled, tough, brave, resourceful. People like that find ways to survive. Fred should be making plans to come to The States with George so the three of them could go to a Bruins game like they always talked about. Tonks should be raising her infant son, Teddy.

A scowl marred his round face. Where the hell had George been when Fred died? Why wasn't he looking out for his twin brother? What about Mr. Lupin? What sort of Defense Against the Dark Arts expert could he have been if he couldn't save his own wife?

O'Bannon stood, palms pressed flat on his desk. Tremors spread through his body.

What if he had decided to stay in England after the Longathian Tunnel Affair? Wouldn't that have made more sense than returning to Salem? England had been the central front of the war. He and Tonks could have stayed together. He would have protected her at the Battle of Hogwarts. Her and Fred. They both would still be alive.

Only if he had stayed in England.

He slammed both fists on his desk. Rana. Fred. Tonks. A best friend and two women he'd fallen for, dead.

Dead because of him.

"No!" He pounded the desk. "No!" Again he struck the desk. Teeth clenched, his breaths came out in grunts. Spittle flew from his mouth.

"NOOO!!!" He picked up the dark wooden chair and hurled it against the wall. Two of the legs shattered.

"NOOO!!!" He threw himself against the wall, his head pressed against his folded arms.

_All my fault. All my fault._

O'Bannon heard the bedroom door fly open. He spun around. Mom and Dad stood in the doorway, worry etched in their faces.

"Jimmy?" Mom blurted. "What's wrong? Are you all right?"

He took a couple ragged breaths. "I'm fine, okay. I'm fine!"

"No, Jimmy. You are not fine. What wrong -"

"I said I'm fine! Just leave me alone, okay?! Leave me alone!"

He turned back to the wall, again pressing his forehead into his folded arms. His teeth clenched when he heard footsteps behind him. He felt more than saw his parents on either side of him, each one placing a hand on his shoulders.

"Jimmy?" Mom's voice cracked. "Jimmy, please. Please talk to us."

He answered his mother with silence.

_**TO BE CONTINUED**_


	31. Wizarding Muggle Relations

**CHAPTER 31: WIZARDING-MUGGLE RELATIONS**

* * *

"Hector? Hector, where are you?"

Little Artimus Rand stood at the base of the marble staircase, spinning completely around. He looked up at the high ceiling, then through an archway that led to the long hallway.

No one was in sight.

"Hector? Hector!" His desperate voice echoed through the mansion. No one replied.

"Hector!" He ran down the nearest hallway, ignoring the moving portraits and the stands supporting marble busts of long-dead relatives.

"Hector!" He trembled, again spinning around, praying he'd find his brother. "Hector, please come out! Hector!"

Tears welled up in his eyes.

"HECTOR!!!"

Suddenly the mansion dissolved before him.

Artimus' eyes snapped open. Paralysis gripped him for a second. He finally managed to draw a couple deep breaths before pushing himself up to a sitting position, the blankets rolling off his torso. His pajamas clung to his sweaty skin. His heart raced. He closed his eyes, breathing deep, trying to settle down.

_It was just a dream. Just a dream._

But he'd been having dreams like this for nearly a year, of being someplace, searching for Hector, but never finding him.

_My God, has it already been a year?_

He swung his legs over the side of the bed and looked at the calendar hanging on his wall, _The World's Most Renowned Schools Of Magic. _The picture showed the stone, fortress-like structure of the Qi Qua Qui Academy of Sorcery in China. Below it was the month JULY with all the dates up to 26 crossed off.

Artimus rested his elbows on his knees and lowered his head. A hole opened under his stomach and swallowed it. He forced himself to look up at an oval-shaped frame on the wall over his bed. It showed a beaming Hector with his arm around Artimus taken during graduation day at Salem two years ago.

He sighed, pushed himself off the bed and shuffled toward the bathroom. He stood under the warm water of the shower, wondering when these nightmares would stop, wondering if the pain would ever go away. At times he was tempted to talk to Jimmy or Rosa or Jared about his nightmares, about this . . . emptiness he had inside him over Hector's loss. Surely his three best friends had to be going through similar pain. Merlin's beard, Rosa, one of the most strong-willed people he knew, had a complete breakdown after Mrs. Diaz's memorial.

But the times he'd gotten together with them after that horrible month of funerals and memorials, the three seemed okay, considering. At least they didn't look as depressed as they had been in the first few weeks following the war.

How would it look if he told them he still had nightmares about his brother no longer being there for him? After everything he'd been through with them, he had this sense that for the first time, they didn't see him as a tag-a-long to feel sorry for. They saw him as an equal. One word about nightmares and he'd go back to being poor, weak Artimus in their eyes.

After showering, he put on fresh clothes, had toast, cereal and coffee for breakfast, then Apparated from outside his apartment building in Haypippil Square to Potomac Park. A cool breeze from the river washed over him, carrying with it the scent of the cherry trees lining the bank. Artimus briefly gazed at the marble building in front of him, which looked as though someone built a large trapezoid, put a hexagon on top of it, then a dome on top of that. Dozens of wizards and witches streamed up the wide staircase and through an open pair of large wooden doors. Engraved in the stone above the entrance was UNITED STATES DEPARTMENT OF MAGIC, EST. 1784.

He quietly slipped into the crowd and entered the building, his shoes clicking against the mustard-colored tiled floor. Signposts stood in the middle of every intersection, wooden arrows pointing in the direction of various offices and bureaus.

MAGICAL DISASTER RESPONSE OFFICE.

BUREAU FOR MAGICAL EDUCATION AND INSTRUCTION.

SPECIAL ARBITER FOR THE PROSECUTION OF MAGICAL WAR CRIMES.

Artimus barely looked at the signposts. He knew full well where the Office of Wizarding-Muggle Relations was located.

Several people greeted him as he walked through the corridors, many enthusiastically. It still took him by surprise, having so many people say "hello" or "good morning" to him when he spent much of his life being ignored. Two years ago he would have delighted in such attention. Now . . . well, now he figured most people he passed in the corridors treated him nicely because he was a war hero, or so said _The All-Seeing Eye._ The paper had chronicled many of the quartet's exploits during the war, though in a way that made it sound so wonderfully adventurous. Artimus agreed with Jimmy, Jared and Rosa whenever they griped about the reporters who wrote that "bullcrap," wondering if any of those "jagoffs" ever had to eat tree bark to survive or fight off setagothas and giants.

Artimus reached his small windowless office and plopped down in his worn leather chair. His eyes drifted toward the small framed photo sitting on the right corner of his desk, one with him and Hector at a Halloween party at the Infantes' the October before the uprising. Again he wondered if the pain would ever go away.

_Do I even want it to? _He feared if he stopped hurting, he might forget about Hector.

Sighing, he turned away from the photo and got to work. He picked up a stack of letters and thumbed through them. One of his projects since returning to work was to contact the parents of Muggle-borns, who happened to be teachers, and get their ideas on how to improve Muggle Studies classes across the country, the hope being to combat the sort of prejudice that gave rise to Voldemort and the Death Eaters.

"_Field trips to Muggle places," _one person suggested.

"_Have Muggles as guest speakers," _someone else recommended.

By mid-morning Artimus had a list of ideas written on a piece of parchment. He held his wand over it, ready to cast a charm to have it fly down the hallways to the Office of Educational Reform when a small, winged piece of parchment fluttered onto his desk and unfolded itself.

_Artimus,_

_Please come to my office. I have something to discuss with you._

_Mr. Nordhagen_

A quiver of nervousness came and went. A year ago he would have been near panic if his boss summoned him to his office. But after fighting Death Eaters, altered Chupacabra and setagothas, meeting with the boss didn't sound scary at all. Besides, Mr. Nordhagen was a decent guy anyway.

Artimus walked to the end of the hall and found the door to his boss' office open. Mr. Nordhagen, a portly man with a bald, egg-shaped head and glasses, sat behind his desk writing something.

"Um, Mr. Nordhagen? You wanted to see me?

The Director of the Office of Wizarding-Muggle Relations looked up and grinned. "Ah, Artimus. Come in. Have a seat."

He did so. Mr. Nordhagen waved his wand and shut the door. Artimus shifted in the cushioned chair, squinting a bit from the sunlight streaming through the window behind his boss.

"So, how's your project going?"

"Fine. I was about to send off another list of recommendations to the Department of Educational Reform when I got your note."

"Good, good. Well, I know this project of yours is keeping you busy, but I have another job for you. A pretty important one."

Artimus held his breath for a moment. "What is it?"

"I'm sure you know that for the last couple of weeks we've been helping the Bureau of Magical Education and Instruction inform the families of First Year Muggle-borns that their children are actually wizards or witches. Normally that task is left to the individual schools, but nearly all of them are busy repairing damage from the war or filling the positions of staff members who were killed, so we've been helping out where possible. And that's where you come in."

Nordhagen handed him a couple sheaves of parchment. Artimus read them over.

_Department of Magic File_

_Subject: Initial contact of Muggle-born witch_

_Name: Samantha Kathryn Fabrici_

_Age: 10 as of July 27__th__. Will turn 11 October 15__th__._

_Parents: Don and Kelly Fabrici (Deceased)_

_Legal Guardian: Jenna Fabrici (Sister)_

_Address: 264 Cabell Ave. #2, Franconia, Virginia._

_Accepted To: Fantimoor School of Magical Study, Washington, D.C. _

Artimus slowly worked his jaw back and forth. He looked up at his boss. "You want me to meet them?"

"More than that. We need you to clean up a mess one of your co-workers made."

His brow furrowed. "I don't understand."

"Sorry. Originally, we sent Patrick Pimmelock to make initial contact with the Fabricis."

Artimus winced. He'd known Pimmelock since he started working for the Office of Wizarding-Muggle Relations. The man was ambitious, but not very smart. He also had the social grace of a troll.

Mr. Nordhagen must have seen his reaction, as he said, "I know. He normally wouldn't be my first choice for this assignment, but this office is stretched thin right now. Then again, so is every other office and bureau in the Department."

"So what did he do?"

"He went on about the war, about creatures like Dementors and werewolves and vampires. He also talked in detail about the prejudices Muggle-borns usually face. None of it sat well with Jenna Fabrici. She said there was no way she'd let her sister be part of a world like that."

"But all of it is true. I mean, isn't it better to give them a heads-up about some of the nastier things in this world than walking into it blind?"

Mr. Nordhagen held up his hands. "I'm not saying we lie to them or omit certain things. Unfortunately, from the way Pimmelock spoke to them, he made it sound like the war is still going on. He did a horrible job of showing the good things about our world, how safe things are now. Why, we haven't had a single attack by a werewolf, Dementor, or fugitive Death Eater in two months. All our schools have strengthened the security wards and spells around their campuses. Secretary of Magic Infante has done a great job of stabilizing the government in a relatively short amount of time. These are the things we need to get across to the families of this new batch of Muggle-borns. I don't need to tell you about the losses we suffered in the war. We can't afford to have Muggle-borns too scared to enter our world."

"And you think I can convince them otherwise?"

"I wouldn't have given you this job if I didn't think you could do it. Let's face it, you're smart, you have an easy going demeanor, you look as non-threatening as they come."

Artimus frowned slightly. After two years of fighting a war, he sort of wished he looked a little intimidating, like Jimmy or Rosa or Jared.

"I'll do my best."

"I know you will, Artimus. Good luck to you."

Mr. Nordhagen shook his hand. Artimus gave his boss a parting smile and headed back to his office. He wrote Jenna Fabrici a letter, apologizing for Pimmelock's behavior, assuring her the Wizarding World was not as dangerous as his co-worker made it sound, and asked to meet her and her sister as soon as possible. He folded it, went to the owlery at the top of the dome, and sent it off.

When Artimus returned from lunch, the reply was waiting for him on his desk.

_Mr. Rand,_

_Thank you for your letter. You can come by tonight around seven._

_Jenna Fabrici_

The corners of Artimus' mouth twisted. It was a rather curt reply. Then again, he never expected this meeting to be easy.

When five o'clock rolled around, he locked up his office and headed down the corridor. He figured he'd stop by the little Thai restaurant near Union Station he, Jimmy, Rosa and Jared had gone to a few times before for dinner. Then he'd Apparate over to Franconia and meet –

"Rand!"

He spun around. A lean man with dark hair and a sour face stomped toward him. Artimus sighed as Patrick Pimmelock stopped barely a foot from him.

"What's the big idea, rich boy? Are you trying to make me look bad in front of Mister Nordhagen?"

"What are you talking about?"

"The Fabricis. I heard he's sending you to talk with them. He says I messed up my initial contact with them."

"That's right." Artimus nodded.

Pimmelock's scowl grew more pronounced. "They asked questions, and I answered them. It's not my fault Samantha Fabrici's older sister freaked out over it. Hell, if they're going to be that scared, who needs them?"

"We need all the new wizards and witches we can get to make up for the ones we lost in the war."

Pimmelock scoffed. "Is that what Mister Nordhagen told you?"

Lines of annoyance dug into Artimus' face. "Yes he did, and I agree with him. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go."

He started to turn.

Pimmelock grabbed Artimus around the forearm.

Artimus sucked down a quick breath and held it. His head snapped down, eyes fixed on Pimmelock's hand.

"You think you can screw me over, rich boy? I've been stuck in this damn place for _five years. _You think you're going to push me aside and move up the ladder? I'm warning you, you don't want to get on my bad side."

Artimus' brow furrowed. His shoulders rose and fell with a slow breath. Gritting his teeth, he yanked his arm from Pimmelock's grasp. The man's eyes lit up in surprise.

Artimus drew another breath. He thought of Jimmy, Jared and Rosa, remembering how they dealt with people like Pimmelock.

Tensing, he stepped forward, his nose inches from Pimmelock's. He scrunched his face, hoping it looked menacing.

"You know what? Next time you want to try and intimidate me, remember this. I started fighting Death Eaters before I even graduated from Salem. I didn't sit around and hope for the best while You-Know-Who's followers were butchering people across the country."

Anger flared in Pimmelock's eyes.

Artimus groaned, turned and walked away. A smile grew on his face as he entered the main corridor. A year ago he never could have imagined himself standing up to a . . . _jagoff _like Pimmelock. But after fighting Death Eaters, how scary could a wizard like Pimmelock be?

He frowned as he followed the throng of witches and wizards toward the exit of the Department of Magic. Memories of all the bullying he suffered during his seven years at Salem flashed through his mind. He snorted, feeling stupid for letting himself be intimidated by idiots like Merak Mather. They just tried to make him feel weak, insignificant. Sometimes they hexed him or hit him. None of them ever tried to kill him, like the Death Eaters. And he got the better of some of those dark-robed murderers during the war. Him! Artimus Rand. The youngest son of a father who thought he'd never amount to anything.

_Goes to show what he knows. _

The anger returned. Anger for letting himself be pushed around for so long.

No more. If people like Pimmelock wanted to bully him, let them. From now on, he'd fight back.

**XXXXX**

Artimus grimaced a little when he saw the small house. The green and white wood looked rotted and in desperate need of painting. Two plastic chairs with torn cushions sat on the front porch. Weeds choked the front yard and the flower beds flanking the walkway.

_This whole house could fit in the parlor of my father's mansion._

He proceeded down the driveway to the back of the house, stopping at a small wooden set of stairs leading to a screen door. A faded gold number 2 hung above it.

He took the steps carefully, fearful they might collapse under him. Fist raised, he knocked.

Several seconds passed before the door opened. Artimus' eyes widened when he saw the woman before him.

She was short, around 5'6, not slender, yet not plump either. Her short, dark hair framed a round, tanned face. The khaki shorts she wore showed of a nice pair of legs.

"Yes?" the woman asked tersely.

"Oh. Um, I'm Artimus Rand. Department of Magic, Office of Wizarding-Muggle Relations. I owled you earlier today."

"Oh. Yeah, right. Um, come in."

Artimus frowned a little as he entered the apartment. She didn't sound very enthusiastic about his presence.

He scanned the place. A small kitchenette led to a small living room with a futon bed pulled out. Off to the left were two doors, one for a bedroom, the other for a bathroom.

_Jeez. Even my apartment is bigger than this. _

"Are you another wizard?" A short girl with the same dark hair and tan complexion as her sister sat at the old wooden kitchen table, an empty plate in front of her. Her eyes lit up as she looked at him.

"Yes I am. My name's Artimus."

"Hi. I'm Samantha. That's my sister Jenna, who won't let me go to that magic school."

Jenna Fabrici scowled. "Sam, I'm not gonna start this again."

"But I wanna go."

"And I'm not going to let you get attacked by some werewolf or whatever. My God, I can't believe those things really exist."

"Actually . . ." Artimus held up a finger. "Attacks by werewolves aren't very common. At least before the war, and now that the war's over . . ."

"That's another thing." Jenna folded her arms and bent one leg forward. Artimus fought to look at her eyes instead of her leg.

She continued. "Do you think I'm going to let my little sister go off to some world where you're always fighting, and where wizards want to kill her because she's a . . . Muggle-born. Heh! Muggle. Who even came up with that stupid name?"

"Miss Fabrici, please. There's no need to be, um, so hostile. I know you had a bad experience with Mister Pimmelock the other day, but he did not do a very good job of telling you everything about the Wizarding World. I'd like to rectify that, if you'll let me."

"Come on, Jenna," Samantha blurted from the table. "Please."

Jenna groaned. She looked from her sister to Artimus. "Okay. I'll hear you out, but I won't promise anything. Just let me clear the table first."

"Actually, I can do that for you." He pulled out his wand. "I mean, if you don't mind."

Jenna's head whipped back and forth. She finally stopped in the direction of the table, working her jaw back and forth. Her shoulders sagged. "Fine."

He smiled and flicked his wand a few times. Samantha gasped in astonishment as she watched plates, utensils and cups float through the air and to the counter by the kitchen sink. With another couple of flicks all the stains were removed. He then levitated them into their proper cabinets and drawers.

A smile creased Artimus' lips. He could only imagine what his father would think of this. A Rand actually lowering himself to cleaning off a kitchen table. "That's what servant elves are for," he'd likely say.

"That was awesome!" Samantha jumped out of her chair, eyes bulging. "Can I really do stuff like that?"

"Well, you'll be able to with the proper training -"

"Wait a sec," Jenna interjected. "I haven't said anything about her going to that magic school."

"Jenna, come on!" Samantha flung her arms out to her sides. "How can you not let me do stuff like that?"

"Maybe it's because I don't want you to get hurt."

"Quit worrying about me. I'm not a baby."

"I'm responsible for you now, so don't tell me not to worry!"

The veins in Artimus' neck stuck out. Fear and guilt bubbled inside him. The last thing he wanted was cause tension between Jenna and her little sister.

"Um, Miss Fabrici." He stepped toward her. "Why don't we go someplace where we can talk in private?" He glanced around the apartment again, wondering where such a place existed here.

Jenna's face scrunched in anger as she turned to him. Artimus held his breath, waiting for her to holler at him.

Instead, she just snorted. "Fine. We can go in my sister's bedroom. Sam, stay out here and watch TV or something."

"Fine." Samantha aimed her narrowed eyes at Jenna.

Head lowered in embarrassment, Artimus let Jenna lead the way into the bedroom. He closed the door and looked around. The room, not surprising, was small and the bed rather old. A few stuffed animals lay on the floor.

"Um, first off, Miss Fabrici, I'm sorry for any problems I'm causing here between you and your sister. I never intended for you two to argue because of me."

Jenna closed her eyes and hugged herself. "It's okay. It's just . . . It's just so overwhelming. I always thought wizards and witches and all that stuff was make believe. Now . . . I don't know."

She plopped down on the edge of the bed.

Artimus shifted from one foot to the other. "Um . . . okay. I don't want to hide the more . . . unpleasant aspects of the Wizarding World from you. Your sister shouldn't go in blind. And yes, it is true we are coming out of a huge war where lots of people died, magical folks _and _Muggles. But things are better. I happen to personally know our new Secretary of Magic. He's the father of one of my best friends, and I know he'll do right by our world. We're taking all kinds of steps to combat prejudice against Muggle-borns, all our schools are improving their security wards and spells. Things are as safe in our world as they can be."

"Unless Samantha runs into a werewolf or a vampire."

Artimus frowned for a moment. "Like I said, there are some dangerous things in the Wizarding World. But, there are also dangerous things in the Muggle World. Drugs, street gangs, terrorists, even driving a car can be dangerous."

Jenna drooped her head and leaned forward. "I don't know. Maybe I'm overreacting, but . . . it's just me and Samantha now. We don't have any other family. I . . . I still haven't gotten over or parents dying. If anything happened to Sam . . ."

Her jaw trembled slightly.

"Miss Fabrici . . ."

"Jenna, please."

"Jenna. I can't fault you for wanting to look after your sister." His lips tightened. Jenna's attitude reminded him of Hector, the way he always looked out for him.

The emptiness spread through him. He clenched his teeth to fight it down, to focus on the task at hand.

"Your sister has a gift," he continued. "A special gift. The teachers at Fantimoor will help her control it, develop it."

"How did she even get this 'gift'? We're just regular people. How can she do magic? And if she can do magic, why can't I?"

"To be honest, it's still a mystery how people from Muggle families get magical abilities. And it's not unheard of for one sibling to have magic in their blood while the other doesn't."

Jenna shifted on the bed. "Say I agree to send her to Fantimoor. What does she do with all that magic when she graduates?"

Artimus shrugged. "Get a job, just like in the Muggle World. There are plenty of careers she can choose from."

"Will she . . . will she still need me?"

He sighed, walking over to the bed and sitting down, making sure there was a respectable amount of space between them. "What kind of question is that? You're her sister."

Jenna turned to him, her face tightening. "I saw what you did with that wand. You made it look so easy. If Sam can get anything she wants by just waving a stick, then what does she need me for?"

Artimus gave her a sympathetic smile. "That's a popular misconception. Even we have our limitations. We can't create food out of thin air, or make ourselves wealthy with a spell, or bring the dead back to life. And magical or not, everyone . . . well, most everyone need their families."

"Most?" A troubled look came over Jenna.

He groaned and shook his head. "Miss Fabr . . . Jenna. I'm sorry about that comment. It's just . . . I didn't come from the greatest family environment."

"Oh. I'm sorry. What was the problem?"

"My father. Nothing I ever did pleased him, he looked at me as a failure, and to top it off, he wasn't fond of Muggles or Muggle-borns. I mean, not to the point where he joined the other side during the war, but he just didn't think much of them. When I got this job, well, he was . . . less than pleased. We haven't spoken since I graduated from the Salem Witches Institute. That was over two years ago."

"Oh my God." Jenna slid a bit closer to him. "Have you and your father tried to reconcile?"

Artimus responded with a humorless laugh. "You don't know my father. As far as he's concerned, I disgraced our family. That's not a forgivable sin in his eyes."

Jenna shook her head. "That's horrible. I mean, I know my family was far from perfect, but I can't imagine my mom and dad . . ." Her voice trailed off. "I can't imagine them doing that to Sam and me."

He turned to her, his face scrunched in concern. "Are you all right?"

Jenna folded her hands in her lap and sighed. "Sorry. Just . . . Just thinking about Mom and Dad, wondering what they'd think of all this."

With an even louder sigh, she got to her feet and paced the short distance from the bed to the wall. She turned back to him, visibly swallowing. "I'm doing my best, you know. I'm only nineteen. I never thought I'd have to take care of my little sister. I mean, we saved up enough money to send me to the local community college. I was thinking of studying nursing. Then . . ." Jenna bit her lip for a moment. "Then the accident happened. The police said Dad tried to run a red light and . . . I have to work two jobs to pay the rent on this piece of crap apartment and put food on the table and pay bills and make sure Sam has enough clothes, which I have to buy from a thrift store, so you can imagine all the grief the other kids at school give her."

Sympathy built up inside Artimus as he noticed moisture glistening in Jenna's eyes. An urge built up in him to walk over a hug her. Obviously, though, that would be wildly inappropriate.

But along with sympathy he felt something else. Admiration. Yes, Jenna looked harried, stressed, even fearful, yet she did what she had to do for her sister. It took a lot of inner strength to deal with such hardship and not completely fall to pieces. In some ways, he knew exactly what she was going through. Three years ago he never could have imagined himself hiding in the mountains for nine months, protecting eighteen children, having to eat squirrels and tree bark, and fighting Death Eaters.

By some miracle, he did all that. Did it and survived.

He got to his feet and walked over to Jenna. She looked up at him, flexing her face muscles, trying to rid herself of any sign of distress.

"Sorry about that. Sometimes I just . . . you know."

Artimus frowned. "Actually, I sort of do. I lost my brother in the war. He . . . he was killed right in front of me."

"Oh my God. I'm so sorry."

Jenna reached out and grasped his wrist. Artimus stopped breathing until she let go a couple seconds later.

"Thank you."

She managed a smile. "I'm really sorry I was so rude to you before. You seem like a really nice guy, and thanks for being honest with me about this magical world of yours."

"You're welcome, and there's no need to apologize for the way you acted. Most Muggles find this sort of thing, well, overwhelming at first."

Jenna smiled again. She had a really nice smile.

Artimus took a breath. "So, um, about Samantha. What do you think? I mean, about sending her to Fantimoor?"

She slowly rubbed the back of her neck, looking down thoughtfully for a few moments. When she looked back up, she said, "Okay. I'll give it a shot."

"Great. That's great. I know Samantha's going to like it at Fantimoor."

"So is there anything I have to do to get her ready?"

"The school should be sending you her schedule and a list of books and other supplies within the next couple of weeks. You can go to Haypippil Square to get them. That's the wizarding town in Washington."

Concern flashed over Jenna's face. "Books and supplies? Will I be able to afford it?"

"Well, the Department of Magic does have a special fund to help families who are . . . um, well . . ."

"Poor," Jenna blurted.

"Uhhhh . . ."

She gave him a smile. "Don't worry. I'm not embarrassed. Given where we live it's kind of obvious."

The tension dissolved from Artimus' muscles. He drew another deep breath. "Um, you know, if you want, I can help you when you have to go to Haypippil Square for Samantha's school stuff. We, um, could meet somewhere and I can, you know, show you what shops you need to go to. And if you have any questions beforehand, maybe . . . well, maybe we can meet somewhere, like, for lunch or something."

Jenna stood frozen for a moment. She canted her head, her face registering surprise. "Are you asking me out?"

"Uhhhh . . ." Panic swelled within Artimus. Had he crossed a line? He just wanted to help Jenna and her sister. But he had to admit, part of him wouldn't mind getting to know her better. But was now the appropriate time for this?

"I'd like that." Jenna gave him a warm smile. "I think I can spare a few hours Saturday. Maybe you can take me and Sam to Haypippil Square. Show us what it's like."

"Yeah. Yeah, sure." He felt a twinge of disappointment. He would rather it just be him and Jenna meeting at Haypippil Square. But he reminded himself he was supposed to be helping both of them.

_Maybe another time._

Would there really be another time? Would Jenna want to go on an actual date with him?

Artimus looked at her, saw the warmth radiating from her eyes, from her entire face.

A fluttering sensation swept through him. It was a feeling he hadn't felt in a long time.

A feeling of pure joy.

_**TO BE CONTINUED**_


	32. Fractures

**CHAPTER 32: FRACTURES**

* * *

"So did Jared tell you? Artimus has a girlfriend."

Jared Diaz looked up at the sound of his name. He stared across the dinner table at the source of the voice, Oriana, then glanced over at Dad, whose face showed hardly any emotion.

"He does?" Dad muttered as he looked to him.

"Yeah. She's a Muggle girl. Name's Jenna."

"Hm." Dad's eyebrows went up for a moment. "A Muggle girl, huh? I'm sure Artimus' father is going to like that. How did they meet?"

"Jenna's got a little sister who turned out to be a witch. She got accepted to Fantimoor, so Art was helping them get ready. One thing led to another and . . ."

"Mm." Dad nodded. "Well, good for him."

He looked back down at his plate and lifted a forkful of spinach into his mouth.

Jared sighed to himself. He'd expected a little more enthusiasm from his father over this news. Actually, a lot more considering how bad his parents felt for Artimus.

He sighed to himself and looked to the other end of the table, where his mother had always sat for family meals. His throat tightened as he stared at the empty space. He forced himself to turn away, to concentrate on his dinner. But his eyes inevitably drifted back to that spot.

Jared pushed the remains of his chicken breast around the plate. Sorrow and anger swirled inside him. How many months had it been since his mother died? Six? Shouldn't he be feeling better by now?

Well, he did have his good days, or at least times when the loss didn't hit him as hard. Usually that happened at work. The Magical Museum of North America kept him busy these days as he assisted the Department of Magic's Division of Wizarding Justice and Protection track down numerous artifacts stolen by Death Eaters during the war. But when he got back to his apartment, or when he came over here, that's when the realization returned.

His mother was really dead.

He looked over at his sister-in-law. She meant well, arranging these little family dinners so Dad wouldn't be alone. But times like these, when he deeply felt the absence of his mother from this table, this house, his life, he just wanted to leave.

Oriana cleared the table with her wand when they had finished, and Esteban used a napkin to wipe little Rodolfo's face.

"So how about next Wednesday we all get together?" She put her hands on Dad's massive shoulders. "Does that work for you, Dad?"

He maintained his stony expression as he replied, "It depends. I still have a lot of training to do with my SMACRAT team."

Oriana frowned. "You're always training them."

"I have to." An edge crept into Dad's voice as he turned to face his daughter-in-law. "VVVVoldemort and his bunch may be gone, but we still have dark creatures to worry about."

"But we haven't had so much as a werewolf bump into someone, let alone tear anyone apart, for months. Everything's been pretty peaceful since the war ended."

Dad's face tightened as he stared at Oriana. "Do you really expect it to stay that way? Sure werewolves and giants and Dementors and the like are lying low now, but that won't last long. Hell, we're already getting reports of reptoids stealing farm animals from a couple wizarding communities in North Carolina. They haven't hurt anyone, but I don't expect that to last long. And most of the old SMACRAT members were killed during the war. I have a whole new team to train up, and I need them to be ready when the time comes."

He grimaced and shook his head. "That's the problem with too many people these days. They think just because the war's over everything will be all right forever. I saw that after the First Big War, and look what happened. Thirteen years later we were fighting again. V-V-VVVoldemort wasn't the only dark wizard we ever had. There were others before him, like Grindelwald and Hister. And there'll be others in the future, mark my words."

Silence fell over the kitchen. Oriana closed her eyes and hung her head.

"If you'll excuse me." Dad stood up and headed toward the hallway, where he entered the bathroom and closed the door.

"Is Grandpa mad?" Rodolfo asked.

"No, Grandpa's not mad." Esteban stroked his son's hair. "He's just . . . um, he's just thinking."

Oriana's shoulders slumped. "I'm sorry. This is my fault. I shouldn't have said all that. Merlin, how stupid."

"Hon, it's not your fault." Esteban reached out and took his wife's hand. "What happened to . . . what happened is still pretty hard for Dad."

"At least he's talking more," Jared noted. "I mean, a couple months ago he could go a whole day without uttering a word to anyone."

"Yeah, but look what he's talking about," Esteban responded. "All the training he's doing with this new SMACRAT team, dark creatures ready to attack at any moment. It's almost like he's still fighting the war."

"Well he's not wrong about dark creatures. I'm sure he just wants his guys to be prepared to face 'em, that's all."

Judging by the looks on Esteban's and Oriana's faces, they didn't buy his argument.

Then again, neither did he. He just wanted some sign, any sign, that Dad was getting better.

When Dad returned from the bathroom, Jared, Esteban, Oriana and Rodolfo said their good-byes, with Oriana promising to owl Dad with a date for their next family dinner. The four then stepped into the green flames gushing from the fireplace and Flooed to their homes.

As soon as Jared got to his apartment in Haypippil Square, he plopped down on the couch and stared at the wall, his mind replaying tonight's dinner.

He sighed, recalling how he'd wanted to take Dad's talkativeness as a sign he was getting better. Stupid, wishful thinking on his part. He just wanted Dad back to the way he'd been before his mother died. Jovial, confident, strong. A shiver of fear went through him. Would he ever see that person again?

_There's gotta be something I can do._

But what the hell could he do? He wasn't cut out for this . . . emotional stuff. For a fleeting moment, he wondered about suggesting to Dad that he see a Mind, Body and Spirit Healer, or what Muggles would call a psychologist. That idea died in a hurry. Jared would never even consider going to one of those people and have everyone think he was messed up. If he wouldn't do it, he sure as hell wouldn't suggest it to his father.

He closed his eyes, wishing Rosa could have been at dinner. She would know what to do. She always knew what to do in these situations. Unfortunately, auror training took up nearly all her time these days. The Department of Magic was anxious to rebuild the ranks of the Aurors Bureau, and as a result put their recruits through a much condensed training period.

But she wouldn't be training forever. Once she was done, he could send her over to Dad's house. Rosa would find a way to help him get better.

In the meantime, Dad had SMACRAT to keep him busy. When Rosa finished her training a few months from now, she could talk to him. After that, things could start getting back to normal with Dad, and with the rest of the family.

**XXXXX**

"I've had it with all your tough guy, macho crap, Diaz! My God, do you know how much trouble we would be in if you'd have hexed that man? Or punched him? Is it possible, for once, for you to use your brain . . . if you even have one!?"

Jared clenched his teeth, ignoring the stares of passing witches and wizards as he stomped through the hallways of the Department of Magic, making for the Office of the Investigation and Recovery of Missing Magical Relics.

"Are you listening to me, you Neanderthal!?"

He stopped, his shoulders rising and falling with angry breaths. He spun around, scowling at the young woman standing a few feet away. His eyes flashed over her short, slender body, her shining, triangular face complete with full red lips and emerald eyes, and jet black hair that ended just above her shoulders.

Leslie Wilcox was without a doubt, one very hot Muggle-born witch. Jared had considered himself very lucky when the Museum assigned him to work with her.

Then he discovered her personality, and realized he'd been very _unlucky_ to be teamed with her.

"The guy was hiding something." He spoke each word deliberately. "And saying 'pretty please' was not going to make him tell us what we needed to know."

"Who's to say he knows anything regarding the whereabouts of those stone tablets?"

Jared gasped, his jaw dropping in shock. "Are you kidding me? The guy was working with the Death Eaters during the war."

Leslie narrowed her eyes at him. "We only have two confirmed reports that Death Eaters actually entered Ulloy's apothecary, and we can't be certain if Ulloy even knew they were Death Eaters."

"Bullcrap!" Two wizards slowed as they passed Jared and stared at him. He sent them a twisted look that suggested they keep moving, which they did.

He returned his focus to Leslie. "I talked to a bunch of his neighbors. They said they saw him go into the tavern near his shop a few times to talk to people who looked like Death Eaters."

"'_Looked like Death Eaters?' _That's not the same as confirming they were Death Eaters. And when the hell did you talk to Ulloy's neighbors? Why wasn't I there as well?"

"Because you drive me up the friggin' wall whenever you're around!"

Anger lines marred Leslie's perfect complexion. She closed the gap between them in a couple steps, her fiery eyes locked on his orbs. "Are you trying to screw me over? Are you trying to take all the credit for this investigation? Move up the ladder while you keep me trapped under the glass ceiling?"

"The what?" Jared figured 'glass ceiling' was some sort of Muggle expression, but not one he'd ever heard Jimmy use.

Leslie snorted. "It doesn't matter if it's the Wizarding World or the Muggle World. You men don't want us women to have any amount of power whatsoever. You just want us to stay home, cook your food, service you in bed and punch out babies."

A bewildered look came over Jared's face. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"You're intimidated by me, aren't you? You just can't stand being around a woman who's more aggressive and more ambitious than you. It just wounds your precious male pride to know a mere woman is actually better than you."

He slouched to one side, mouth agape, staring at Leslie with unblinking eyes.

Then he burst out laughing, attracting even more attention from the wizards and witches passing by them.

"What's so damn funny!?"

Jared took a few breaths, barely settling himself. "You think aggressive women intimidate me? I've been around aggressive women all my life! Half the women in my family are aurors. I fought alongside women during the war. You think getting in my face and yelling at me and saying I'm somehow sexist because I don't like you makes you tough? My cousin Rosa is a thousand times tougher than you, and she also knows how to treat people . . . oh, what's the word I'm looking for? Oh yeah. _Nice! _So save the whoa-is-me crap for someone who actually cares."

He spun around and stalked down the hallway. A very loud clicking of heels rose up behind him. He glanced over his shoulder and groaned.

Leslie was following him.

"I've had it with you, Diaz! When I get back to my office, I'm going to write a letter to my boss _and your boss_ and tell them about your atrocious behavior ever since I had the misfortune of being assigned to you."

"Fine! Go ahead! Then the Museum can reassign me to someone who isn't a stark-raving bitch!"

Leslie's head trembled with fury. "I'm adding that to my report as well, as proof of your sexist -"

"Excuse me. Is there a problem here?"

Both Jared and Leslie looked down the hallway. A tall, stout man with a dark beard flecked with gray hobbled down the hallway, his artificial leg clunking on the floor.

"Secretary Infante." Leslie stood at attention like a Muggle soldier.

Jared rolled his eyes and just nodded to the Secretary of Magic. "Hey, Uncle Cesario."

His uncle's eyes darted between him and Leslie. For a moment, Jared wondered if they'd get reamed out for having a shouting match in the middle of the Department of Magic.

"Jared, you need to come with me."

His eyes widened. Was Uncle Cesario going to take him back to his office to yell at him? And what about Leslie? Shouldn't she get some sort of reprimand?

He glanced over at her, and saw her smiling smugly at him. He shot her a scowl and turned back to Uncle Cesario. "What is it?"

His uncle bit his lip. "Your father's in the hospital."

**XXXXX**

Jared fought to keep his legs, his entire body, from shaking as he followed Uncle Cesario through the wide, pale white corridors of the Nuhanamann Center for Magical Healing in Washington. Fear sent his heart beating at a jackhammer pace. His uncle's words from a few minutes ago echoed in his mind.

"_Irving was on an assignment with SMACRAT in North Carolina tracking some reptoids when they were attacked. It sounds like he got slashed pretty bad."_

They rounded a corner. Jared spotted Oriana standing halfway out of a room.

"Oriana," Uncle Cesario called to her.

She waved to them. "He's in here."

Jared studied his sister-in-law's face and raised an eyebrow. She didn't appear too worried.

"How is he?" Uncle Cesario asked.

"He got slashed pretty good on the back. But the healer closed his wound and gave him a Blood Replenishment Potion. He'll be fine."

Jared's knees almost gave out as relief washed over him. He let out a long breath. "Thank, Merlin."

Oriana hugged Uncle Cesario and him before leading them into the hospital room. Several people crowded around the bed. Esteban, with Rodolfo at his side, Rosa, Aunt Adelaide, his grandparents. Sitting on the bed was his father, his shirt off, and clutching a goblet.

"Dad." Jared strode over to him. "Are you okay?"

His father grinned and clamped his free hand on his shoulder. "I'm fine. Just a little too slow when those reptoids attacked. Not the first time I've wound up in the hospital after a mission." He drank from the goblet, grimacing after he swallowed. "Blood Replenishment Potion. You'd think I'd be used to the taste considering how many times I drank this stuff before."

Jared smiled, holding his breath in shock. Merlin's beard, Dad just made a joke. When was the last time he'd done that?

He put an arm around his father, who looked up at him with a huge grin. He reached around and slapped Jared on the side.

"Why did they just attack you like that?" Uncle Cesario inquired. "Didn't you try to reason with them first like I wanted you to?"

Dad groaned, sounding a bit annoyed. "Come on, Cesario. You know what reptoids are like. They'd rather rip out your throat than talk. We have better luck talking to the giants than we do them."

The corners of Uncle Cesario's mouth twisted. He turned to Aunt Adelaide, who gave him a look of concern. After a few moments of silence, Uncle Cesario turned back to Dad. "Well, you can tell me all about it in your report. Just get some rest."

"I feel fine." Dad gave his brother-in-law a dismissive wave.

A wry grin formed on Uncle Cesario's face. "This is the good thing about being Secretary of Magic. I can use my power for moments like this. Irving, I'm ordering you to rest today, and tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" Distress fell over Dad's face. "But I still have some training to do with my team."

"Irving." Uncle Cesario spoke a little more forcefully.

Dad frowned, his broad shoulders slumping. "All right, _boss._ You won't see me around the Department today or tomorrow."

"Good." Uncle Cesario nodded.

"I'm sorry." A portly nurse with gray robes entered the room. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you all to leave. I need to change Mister Diaz's dressing, and he also needs his rest."

Jared and the rest of the family headed out under the nurse's stern eyes. He turned back to his father, who grinned at him.

Relief and happiness flooded through him. Finally, finally he was looking at Dad the way he used to be. Jared whipped his head left to right, searching for the nearest relative. It happened to be Rosa, who looked at him with a supportive smile. He wrapped and arm around her shoulders and pulled her tight against him. He swallowed back the urge to shed tears of happiness.

Things had begun to return to normal for Dad.

**XXXXX**

Jared sat with his feet propped up on the desk of his small basement office, staring at a piece of parchment. His eyes darted up and down the list of artifacts, the ones that had been recovered crossed off. Many more, however, still needed a line struck through them.

He sighed, wondering when he'd get back out there and hunt them down.

The Head of the Magical Museum of North America, Jennings Hurst, had not been happy when he learned about the argument Jared had with Leslie at the Department of Magic. The man spent a half-hour yesterday ripping him a new one, going on about his lack of professionalism, embarrassing the Museum, the need to treat colleagues with respect, blah, blah, blah. Whatever. What the hell did his idiot boss know anyway? He hadn't done any sort of field work for over twenty years, hadn't even lifted a finger to make a single contribution to the last war or the one before that. Hurst just sat on his fat ass and let other wizards and witches fight and die for him.

_Witches like my mom._

Jared groaned and leaned further back in his chair. He prayed he'd be assigned to someone else from the Office of the Investigation and Recovery of Missing Magical Relics soon. He hated being cooped up in an office, cataloging, writing reports, glancing over internal memos he usually incinerated with a flick of his wand. How the hell could other wizards stand to be behind a desk eight hours a day, week in and week out, _for years!?_

He looked at the Muggle movie poster hanging on his wall, one Jimmy had gotten him the Christmas before the uprising. _Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom._ His eyes locked on the stout, heroic image of Indiana Jones, his whip raised in the air. That's what he needed to be doing. Getting out there and tracking down the rest of the artifacts stolen from the Museum. He also needed to get his brown leather jacket and enchanted whip out of the closet, and he needed a fedora, not the cowboy hat he currently had. Yeah, then he'd really look like –

A flapping of wings caught his attention. He turned just as a brown and white barn owl swooped through his open door and landed on his desk. Jared recognized it immediately. Esteban's and Oriana's owl, Cibicue. The bird hooted and dropped a letter on his desk. He straightened up, opened the envelope and removed the folded parchment.

_Dear Jared,_

_I don't know if you heard, Oriana and I just found out about it ourselves. Dad's been removed as the leader of SMACRAT._

"What!?" He shot forward in surprise. Cibicue flapped his wings and hopped back.

He continued reading.

_From what we heard, Aunt Adelaide investigated the reptoid attack in North Carolina and said that Dad ordered SMACRAT to attack the reptoids without provocation. She recommended to the Bureau for the Management of Magical Creatures that Dad be reassigned to a desk job indefinitely and . . ._

Jared crushed the sides of the letter. His face twisted in anger. Aunt Adelaide recommended Dad be taken off of SMACRAT? His own sister recommended that?

_What the hell!?_

"_Attack the reptoids without provocation?"_ What the hell did that mean? They're reptoids. They all sided with Voldemort during the war. Dad said they've been raiding wizarding communities. What more provocation do you need to attack them?

His shoulders rose and fell as he glared at one name on the paper.

Aunt Adelaide.

How could she do this? SMACRAT had been the one thing keeping Dad going since Mom died. Now Aunt Adelaide, Dad's own sister, had taken it away from him, and put him behind a desk. A friggin' desk! How the hell would Dad deal with that?

He kept staring at Aunt Adelaide's name, his rage growing with each second. Trembling with anger, he crumpled the parchment and chucked it across his office. He shot to his feet, knocking over his chair. Startled hoots burst from Cibicue as Jared stormed out of his office. He stomped upstairs and across the Museum, ignoring the various displays and patrons as he marched into the foyer, with its vine-covered columns along the walls. He glanced at the middle-aged witch sitting behind the horseshoe-shaped desk.

"I'm going to the Department of Magic," he snapped at her.

"Does Mister Hurst know about -"

"Tell him it's a family emergency!" He shoved the glass door open, strode into the alley next to the Museum and Apparated just outside the Department of Magic. Fists clenched, he marched up the stairs and into the building. Several witches and wizards had to move out of his way as he stomped through the corridors. He pounded up the stairs, nearly bowling over a pair of witches who blurted out their indignation to him. Not that he cared.

Finally he came to a pair of wooden double doors. A blue banner with a white shield and crossed wands hung over it, with the inscription, UNITED STATES AURORS BUREAU.

He shoved the doors open.

"Can I help y-"

Jared marched passed the receptionist, his gait quickening. He barely noticed the multitude of empty offices and desks, and walls adorned with maps and posters with moving photos of wizards and witches wanted by the Aurors Bureau. He bounded a flight of stairs two at a time. His feet pounded into the wooden floorboards as he made straight for the door at the end of the corridor.

ADELAIDE INFANTE: DIRECTOR, U.S. AURORS BUREAU.

A horned gargoyle stood in front the door.

"Out of the way! I need to see Director Infante!"

The stone creature scowled at him. "The Director is in a meeting with another auror and can't be disturbed."

Jared bared his teeth. That was not the answer he wanted to hear.

He drew his wand. Moments later the gargoyle went flying down the corridor. It crashed to the floor and tumbled toward the stairs.

That's when two aurors appeared.

"You!" One of them shouted. "Stay where you -"

"_Expelliarmus!"_

The wands flew out of both aurors' hands.

_Some aurors._

Jared turned around, twisted the knob and threw the door open. It struck the wall with a horrendous crash. He stormed into the office, spotting Aunt Adelaide rising from her desk.

"Jared! What's the meaning of this?"

"You got a lot of nerve asking _me _that question!" He was about to say more when he noticed movement to his right.

The auror Aunt Adelaide was meeting, a stocky woman with auburn hair, sprang out of her seat, drawing her wand.

Jared whipped around to face.

"Stay your wands!" Aunt Adelaide hollered. "This is my nephew."

"Yeah." Jared glowered at the auror. "Now get the hell out of here. I need to talk to your boss."

The auror's eyes darted to Aunt Adelaide, whose face was marred by deep anger lines. She nodded sharply to the auror, who left the office.

As soon as the door closed, Aunt Adelaide yelled, "Jared Virgilio Diaz! Where the hell do you get off barging into my office when I'm meeting with one of my -"

"I don't give a damn about your meeting! I wanna know where you get off taking SMACRAT away from my father!"

Aunt Adelaide's face tightened. She took two deep breaths before she continued. "I had no choice but to recommend his removal."

"Bullcrap! You're his sister!"

"And I'm also in charge of the Auror's Bureau, and I have to do what's best for the security of the Wizarding World."

"And this is what's best? Putting my dad behind a desk? He's the best when it comes to dealing with magical creatures."

"He attacked those reptoids without provocation."

"I don't believe you!" Jared lunged toward his aunt's desk.

"It's true! I wish it wasn't, but it is." Aunt Adelaide looked away for a moment. "I interviewed the members of his team and civilian eyewitnesses. I examined the wands of all the SMACRAT members and investigated the scene of the attack. Irving was told to initiate contact with any reptoids he came across."

"What the hell for? They served V-V-Voldemort."

"Not all of them. Many were sympathetic to his cause, but never acted on it. Cesario wants to try and build a lasting peace between us and creatures like the giants and the reptoids. Irving was made aware of this. Yet when he came across a group of reptoids that raided a wizard home, he didn't try to establish contact with them, or ask them to surrender. He simply ordered his men to attack."

"So what? They're reptoids. They're practically animals. Even trolls have more intelligence than them. And you said it yourself, they raided somebody's home."

"And took a couple of chickens. They didn't hurt any people. It did not warrant the sort of attack your father ordered."

Jared just stared at his aunt, body shaking as he drew slow, angry breaths. It took him a few seconds to form his argument. "So he _might _have made a mistake. That's no reason to kick him off SMACRAT."

"Made a mistake?" Aunt Adelaide's eyes widened. "Irving disobeyed an order from the Secretary of Magic. He jeopardized any future negotiations between us and the reptoids. He's lucky he wasn't fired."

"You know what my Dad's been liked since the war ended. With Mom gone, SMACRAT's the only thing keeping him going. You take that away from him, you'll destroy him."

Aunt Adelaide closed her eyes and chewed on her lower lip. "I'm sorry, Jared. I really am. Maybe in a few months I can recommend to Irving's boss that he be given a review for possible reinstatement as leader of SMACRAT."

"'Possible reinstatement?' Oh, well isn't that generous of you?"

Aunt Adelaide slammed her palms on her desk. "Dammit, Jared! Do you think this was easy for me?"

"Considering you have Dad working behind a desk now, I'm going to say yes!"

"Adelaide! Jared! What's going on?"

They both turned to the door. Uncle Cesario stood in the entryway, a displeased look etched in his face.

"Jared." He gave him a penetrating stare. "Did you assault two aurors and fling the gargoyle in front of your aunt's office down the hall?"

"Yeah! What of it?"

"Jared!" Shock blazed across Aunt Adelaide's face. "Have you lost your mind?"

"I can ask you the same question."

"Jared!" Uncle Cesario's face hardened. "Don't _ever _talk to your aunt like that."

He ignored his uncle's reprimand and fixed a harsh stare at him. "You're the Secretary of Magic. You can fix this."

"Fix what?"

"My dad, dammit! Your _wife_ recommended he be removed as leader of SMACRAT. You can change that. Order him back to SMACRAT. Please."

Uncle Cesario closed his eyes and lowered his head. The seconds of silence that passed proved unbearable.

"Uncle Cesario, please!"

The Secretary of Magic's shoulders slumped. "Jared, I'm sorry. I have to go along with Adelaide on this."

Jared dropped back a step, gaping at his uncle. He whipped his head around to his aunt, who sighed and looked away.

"What the hell's wrong with you two? He's family!"

"I know that." Aunt Adelaide said. "But for something like this, what's best for the Wizarding World has to take precedence over what's best for our family. I love my brother, but -"

"Bullcrap! If you loved him, you wouldn't have done this to him! Don't you dare stand in front of me and say that crap, you heartless hag!"

"That's it!" Uncle Cesario stomped over to him, rage burning in his eyes. For a moment, Jared thought the man would hit him. "I warned you, Jared! I will not have you talk to your aunt, or any other member of this family like that! Now get out of here! Right now!"

Head quaking in rage, he glared at his aunt and uncle. "FINE!!"

He pounded toward the door.

"And I don't want you in this office, or this building, until you've apologized to your aunt!"

Jared spun around. "Apologize to her!? _Her!?_ Like hell!"

"I'm serious, Jared!" Uncle Cesario narrowed his eyes. "The next time I see you -"

"Well you can forget about that, because as far as I'm concerned, I NEVER WANT TO SEE EITHER ONE OF YOU AGAIN!!!"

_**TO BE CONTINUED**_


	33. A Crumbling Foundation

**CHAPTER 33: A CRUMBLING FOUNDATION**

* * *

Rosa Infante was pissed off.

She did have a problem, though. She didn't know who to be pissed off at.

Logically, all her anger should be directed at Jared. After all, he had called her mother a hag right to her face. According to Dad, she had spent the next hour after that argument locked in her office crying. Mom, crying! It took a lot, a whole lot, to get Mom to cry. Yet her dumbass cousin managed to do it.

But Mom wasn't totally innocent in all this. The same with Dad. They wouldn't reinstate Uncle Irving as the leader of SMACRAT, nevermind the exceptional career he'd had for both the Department of Magic and the Guild of the Light hunting monsters. One mistake completely wiped all that away. Did Mom and Dad really think removing him from SMACRAT would help him cope with Aunt Liana's death?

Bottom line, she was pissed off at her whole family right now, and she saw no way to fix it. Mom and Dad insisted that Jared come to them to apologize. Jared, meanwhile, did not even want to hear the names "Aunt Adelaide and Uncle Cesario" until they reinstated his father as leader of SMACRAT.

Impasse.

Dammit.

The rustling of bushes broke her train of thought.

Rosa stopped next to a tree and scanned the forest around her.

_Get your head out of your ass. You've got a job to do._

She crouched behind a bush, perking her ears up, hoping to hear another tell-tale sign of . . .

_Snap._

She grunted at the sound of a broken twig. _This guy has all the stealth of an elephant._

Rosa continued to scan the forest. She saw no sign of her target. Not that that meant anything. He could be using a Camouflage Charm.

_Speaking of which . . ._

With a wave of her wand, she cast a Camouflage Charm on herself. She then belly crawled through bushes and around trees, heading for the dirt trail nearby. Any smart person would stay off a trail. Walking on one was just inviting the opposition to track you or ambush you.

But given what she knew of her target . . .

Rosa stopped at the edge of the trail and shook her head.

Footprints in the dirt, clear as day.

_Friggin' moron._

She slowly crawled along the trail, following the footprints. After about twenty yards the tracks veered off into the brush. Her sharp eyes spotted a few broken or disturbed branches.

Holding in a snort of disgust, she closed her eyes, formed a quick plan, then drew a breath.

She pushed herself to one knee and slashed her wand in front of her. A whirlwind sprang up and tore through the vegetation.

"AHHH!!" A humanoid figure in the shape of foliage soared through the air and hit the ground. It tumbled across the dirt trail and rolled to a halt on the other side. The Camouflage Charm dissipated, revealing a young, round-faced man with black hair and a lean build. He sat up, grimacing and looking around.

Rosa marched over to him, scowling. The young man lifted his head, a hurt look on his face.

"How did you know where I was?" asked Auror Trainee Josh Riggleman. "I used a Camouflage Charm."

"You think that's all you need to hide from someone?" Rosa stabbed a finger at the trail. "Look at that! Your footprints are all over the place. Hell, a five-year-old could have tracked you."

Riggleman stared at the trail, frowning. "Oh. Sorry."

"Sorry!? That's all you have to say? If this were the real world instead of an exercise, you'd be dead!"

"Okay, okay. I said I'm sorry. You got me. Now help me find my wand. I lost it."

Rosa's head shook with anger. She couldn't believe this idiot's attitude. Did he think this was a game? Did he feel training exercises shouldn't be taken seriously?

Riggleman stared expectantly at her. "Um, are you gonna help me look for my wand or -"

"_Spiculum!"_

The Stinging Jinx hit Riggleman in the arm.

"Ow!" He jerked and grasped his biceps. "What'd you do that for?"

"_Spiculum!"_

Rosa's second Stinging Jinx struck his stomach.

"Ow! Stop it! We're done. You beat me, okay?"

"You think this is how it's gonna be in combat!?" Rosa stood over him, face twisted in fury. "You think some Death Eater is going to disarm you and just walk away?"

"But this isn't combat. It's just an exer-"

"_Spiculum!"_

"Argh! Dammit, stop it!"

"You think saying 'stop it' means anything to a Death Eater? If this were the real world, you'd be screaming in agony from one Cruciatus Curse after another! You don't stop fighting until you're dead!"

"But rules say when you've disarmed your opponent -"

Rosa cast a Stunning Spell that hit the ground inches from Riggleman's foot.

"You're not disarmed until you're unconscious. Now get off your ass and find your wand."

Hesitantly, Riggleman got to his feet and looked around. "I . . . I can't find it."

"Then just keep fighting!"

"How?"

Rosa rolled her head. "Merlin's friggin' beard, did you lose your manhood when you lost your wand? Punch me. Tackle me. Do something!"

Riggleman looked at his hands like he'd never made a fist in his life.

"Come on!"

The young Auror Trainee jumped, then just stared at Rosa. He took a few deep breaths, reared back his right fist and changed.

Rosa belted him. Riggleman dropped to the ground and slapped a hand over his face.

"Get up!" she hollered.

"You broke my nose." He slid away from her on his ass.

"Keep fighting! You think a Death Eater'll feel sorry for you because you have a broken nose?" She kicked dirt at him. "Fight, damn you! Fight!"

"Trainee Infante! Stand down!"

She spun around and looked up. A stocky man with receding fair hair hovered down to them on a broom.

Instructor Mackenzie dismounted and glanced at both Rosa and Riggleman. "What's going on here?"

"She . . . she hit me." Riggleman nodded toward her. "She broke my nose."

Mackenzie's head whipped toward her. "Is that true, Trainee Infante?"

"This wussbag wasn't taking the exercise seriously, so I had to -"

"I asked if that was true, Trainee Infante!"

Rosa's face tightened. "Yes, Sir. It's true."

Mackenzie's face reddened. "Was Trainee Riggleman disarmed?"

"He could still fight, so -"

"Did Trainee Riggleman have possession of his wand?"

"No, Sir. But he could still -"

"What were the rules of this exercise, Trainee Infante?"

"To track your opponent and disarm him of his wand."

"Then why did you punch Trainee Riggleman _after _he was disarmed?"

Rosa felt her own face redden. She stared at her combat instructor through narrowed eyes. "Just because you don't have a wand doesn't mean you're disarmed. You can still use your fists or grab a rock or someth-"

"You do not have the authority to change the rules of this exercise, Trainee Infante! I DO!!"

"Well this useless pile of dragon crap needs to know what it's like in the real world." She stabbed a finger at Riggleman. "And in the real world, Death Eaters don't stop fighting just because you lost your wand!"

Mackenzie seethed with rage. His shoulders rose and fell slowly. "You listen to me, _Trainee _Infante. I don't care what you did in the war. I don't care who your parents are. As long as you are a trainee, you will do things _my way!_ Do you really think just because that rag _The All-Seeing Eye_ proclaims you're a war hero, you think you know better than me how to prepare someone to be an auror?"

_Yes I do._ Somehow, she managed to bite back that response, instead replying, with an acidic tone. "No, Sir."

Mackenzie leaned in closer to Rosa. She didn't back down an inch as he growled. "This has gone on long enough, Trainee Infante. The insubordination, acting like you're an instructor, this mindset that you're somehow Merlin's gift to the Aurors Bureau. That all ends today! Now you take Trainee Riggleman to the infirmary, then you are confined to quarters for the rest of the day."

Rosa clenched her teeth, staring daggers at Mackenzie as the instructor continued.

"Tomorrow, you're to report to the quadrangle at five a.m. sharp for running. _A lot _of running. Then you're going to clean the bathrooms . . . _without magic. _When you're done with that, I'll find more ways to make your life as miserable as possible. And from this moment on, when I or any other instructor ask you a question, your _only _responses will be either 'Yes, Sir,' or 'No, Sir.' Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, Sir." _Asshole, _she tacked on in her mind.

Under Mackenzie's fiery gaze, Rosa grabbed Riggleman by the arm and yanked him to his feet. She shot the instructor a brief, harsh gaze before Apparating away. The forest around her vanished. An elongated log cabin stood in front of the two auror trainees. A carved, wooden sign above the doorway read INFIRMARY.

"All right, we're here. Got get your damn nose fixed."

Rosa didn't even glance at Riggleman. She just spun around and marched across the well-manicured lawn.

"You're crazy," Riggleman blurted at her.

Anger lines dug into her face. She whirled around, glowering at Riggleman.

The young man visibly swallowed and hurried into the infirmary.

Rosa snorted and stomped across the grounds of the Auror Training Camp in Arlington, Virginia, making for a multi-story log structure that housed the trainees. She pounded up the stairs, nearly stepping on a servant elf dusting the banister. She ignored his indignant shouts and proceeded to her tiny apartment, slamming the door behind her.

"Jackass!" Rosa thumped her fist against the wall. "Loudmouth, pig-headed jackass!"

She stalked around her tiny living room/kitchenette, teeth clenched, breathing sharply. This infuriated her to no end. Everything she'd done during the war, from Ovenderburg to Helghorst Island, meant nothing to the dumbasses running this camp. They still treated her no differently than the rest of the boneheads in her class who didn't know their wands from their asses. Like Riggleman. How the hell did he even get accepted to auror training? Sure, the Aurors Bureau was desperate to rebuild its ranks, but still . . .

Rosa exhaled loudly. She tried to take some solace in the fact that Riggleman would undoubtedly wash out soon, then she wouldn't have to deal with the whiny little mushspine anymore.

After twenty minutes of pacing, and still just as angry, she grabbed a butterbeer from her ice box, dropped herself on the well-worn sofa, and polished it off in three swigs. She took another bottle from her ice box when someone knocked on the door.

"What the hell now?" she muttered, tromping over to the door. She twisted the knob and threw the door open.

_Aw crap._

Mom stood in the doorway, her face tight with anger.

"We need to talk." Mom brushed past her and entered the apartment.

"Come in." Rosa pushed the door shut.

Mom spun around to face her, eyes narrowed. "That attitude of yours is the reason I'm here. I just heard what happened today in your combat exercise. You actually hexed a trainee and broke his nose _after _you disarmed him? What the hell is wrong with you, young lady?"

Rosa folded her arms and exhaled loudly. "So I broke his nose. Big deal. I've gone to the infirmary with a lot worse injuries."

"That's not the point. The rules of the exercise were to track your opponent and disarm him. Not goad him into a fight."

"Well aren't we supposed to make training as realistic as possible? How realistic is it to separate a witch or wizard from their wand and just say, 'okay, it's over?' I didn't see any Death Eaters do that during the war. Did you?"

"You do not make up the rules for these exercises. Your instructors do."

"Well some of my instructors are idiots."

Mom's eyes flared in anger. _"Don't ever _disrespect your superiors like that!"

"Why not?" Rosa clenched her butterbeer bottle in a death grip. "Have you seen some of the exercises they run us through? They're jokes. They're nothing like the way things really are in combat. And when I point this out, they act like I'm some First Year student who barely passed Defense Against the Dark Arts Class."

"It is not your job to point those things out. And most of your instructors started serving the Aurors Bureau when I was changing your diapers."

Rosa looked to the ceiling, shook her head, and started to turn away from her mother.

"Don't you dare turn your back on me when I'm talking to you!"

Rosa whirled around, stomping her foot as she faced Mom and her furious stare.

"I've had it with hearing reports about your behavior from your instructors. And honestly, I shocked by it. Your father and I raised you better than that. What, do you think because I'm in charge of the Aurors Bureau and your father's Secretary of Magic, that gives you the right to act however you want in training camp?"

"This has nothing to do with you or Dad. This has to do with piss-poor training exercises and the dumbass recruits we have around here. And maybe if you'd leave your office and wander around here every once in a while, you'd see that!"

Mom drew slow, deliberate breaths, her unblinking stare burning into Rosa. She stepped toward her until only inches separated the two women. "We may be in great need of aurors, but there is a limit to how much crap I'm going to put up with. And you, young lady, have reached that limit. From here on out, you _will _give all your instructors the proper respect they're due. You will follow _all _their orders without question. And if you get out of line _one more time, _you are _finished here!"_

Rosa's jaw fell open. Her arms dropped to her side. "What?" The bottle of butterbeer in her hand shook.

"I mean it. You may be my daughter, but I have to put the interests of the Department of Magic ahead of the interests of my family."

Rosa glowered at her mother. "Well you'd know all about that. You were the one who crapped all over your own brother for the good of the Department."

Mom trembled in anger. A tense silence hung over the apartment. Rosa held her breath, ready for her mother to explode.

Instead, the Director of the U.S. Aurors Bureau stalked past her and left the apartment, slamming the door.

Rosa glared at the door, Mom's threat echoing in her mind. She'd actually do it? Take her out of auror training, rob her of her life's dream? Was Mom just as blind as the idiots training her? How could she afford _not _to have her as an auror, after everything she'd been through?

Rage burned white hot inside her. First Uncle Irving, now her. What the hell sort of woman had Mom turned into where she could take away something that meant so much to members of her own family? When the hell did she stop caring about her own brother?

Her own daughter?

With a primal roar, Rosa threw her butterbeer bottle at the door. It exploded into a cloud of glass.

_**TO BE CONTINUED**_


	34. A Return To The Old World

**CHAPTER 34: A RETURN TO THE OLD WORLD**

* * *

Jimmy O'Bannon pushed himself deeper into the seat of his mother's station wagon as he kept pace with the traffic on the Concord Turnpike. His eyes took in not only the other vehicles around him, but the skyline of Boston as well, with the John Hancock Tower and Prudential Tower looming ever present. He sighed and grinned, bobbing his head to Led Zeppelin's "Misty Mountain Hop" coming from the car's CD player. Everything around him just felt . . . normal.

It was becoming a regular thing for him, coming back home on weekends. He wanted to spend more time with his parents, after having no contact with them all during the uprising. Not only that, but O'Bannon had shut them out from a huge part of his life for the past three years. Actually, some parts would always be closed off to them. Like he really wanted Mom and Dad to know that he'd suffocated a witch or beaten to death a wizard with a rock.

Along with spending more time with his parents, he also just liked reconnecting with his Muggle roots. Yeah, he could make his TV and computer work in his apartment in Haypippil Square, but it wasn't the same as walking through a mall or Copley Square or Boston Common, or riding on the subway. In those places he got to be around hundreds, thousands of Muggles. People on their way to work or to one of the many colleges in the city or tourists oohing and aahing at stuff he took for granted as a native Bostonian. All of them wrapped up with their regular concerns. "Will I get that raise?" "Will I pass this test?" "Do we have time to walk the Freedom Trail?" None of them knew the horrors that took place right under their noses over the past year. None of them had close friends stolen from them in the blink of an eye. None of them had nightmares where they awoke in a cold sweat.

He envied them.

At times, he wished he could be like them. Just a regular Muggle.

_No sense in wishing for what can never be._

O'Bannon got off at the exit for Watertown and kept driving with no particular destination in mind. He just wanted to drive, lose himself in the flow of traffic, leave behind the Wizarding World, if only for a little while.

He gripped the steering wheel tighter. Thoughts of Rosa and Jared flashed through his mind. A frown formed on his lips. He thought the end of the war would make everything better. Instead his surrogate family was falling apart. He still had trouble believing it. The Diazes and the Infantes had been as tight-knit as the Weasleys over in Britain. But Mr. Diaz's removal as leader of SMACRAT, per Mrs. Infante's request, had divided the family. Jared and Rosa seemed determined to stay pissed off at the Infantes, though he suspected with Rosa it had more to do with the dressing down her Mom gave her after she got in trouble for assaulting a trainee during a combat exercise. Mr. Diaz's current condition didn't help matters any. He'd become more withdrawn since being taken off SMACRAT and dumped behind a desk. One thing he knew about that family, they did not have the mentality to work behind a desk. They needed to be active.

He shook his head, wishing he had some idea how to get everyone talking again. But the last time he saw Jared, he stated emphatically, "I swear to Merlin, if you mention my aunt and uncle's names one more time, I'm outta here."

He had yet to see Rosa since the argument with her mother, but felt any discussion about her family situation would end in a similar fashion. One thing about Rosa, she knew how to hold a grudge.

O'Bannon bit his lip, trying to block it all out. Wanting to be a normal Muggle, or at least pretend to be one, for a couple days.

The city soon gave way to pine forests as he entered Newton. Up ahead he noticed a stone marquee for Mount Ida College with a white banner underneath it.

FOOTBALL TODAY! MT. IDA VS. HUSSON, 1 P.M.

O'Bannon glanced at the digital clock above the CD player. It read 12:50.

_What the hell. _Granted, it wasn't Boston University or Northeastern, but what could be more Muggle than watching a college football game on a Saturday afternoon?

He turned into the main entrance and proceeded to the parking lot. He stepped out of the car and looked around, realizing he'd never before set foot on the campus of Mount Ida. It was a rather quaint little campus, with rolling lawns, old buildings and lots of trees, many with their leaves already turning red and orange. In a way, it reminded him a little of the Salem Witches Institute.

_You're a Muggle today, Jimmy. Muggle._

He followed a small crowd of people toward a football field surrounded by pine trees. Metal bleachers, already three-quarters packed, lined one side of the field. He stood in line with several guys and girls around his age, many of them decked out in green and white sweatshirts, hats and jackets with the school's logo. O'Bannon almost felt out of place in his red and black Red Sox jacket and ballcap.

He moved with the crowd toward the ticket booth, catching snippets of conversation.

"Dude, let's go grab some pizza tonight. I'm so sick of eating the crap they serve in the cafeteria."

"I'm gonna enjoy myself tonight, 'cause tomorrow I'm gonna have to work on that essay for business management."

"I just feel like chillin' out tonight. Let's just stay in and watch some DVDs."

O'Bannon grinned. It was nice to hear such conversations, normal conversations for eighteen and nineteen-year-olds. None of them had to talk about the best way to fight Chupacabra or how to attack a supply base. Hell, they didn't even know a thing about the war that raged across this country, across the entire world, for the last three years. Homework and parties and where to go to eat seemed the biggest concerns for these Muggles.

A loud female giggle caught his attention. He looked over his shoulder . . . and swallowed.

A tall girl with a clear complexion, bright smile and long blond hair stood about ten feet away, chatting with two other girls. All three wore green hooded sweatshirts that read "Mount Ida Women's Basketball."

O'Bannon's gaze fixed on the tall blond as she laughed and brushed her long hair away from her face. My God, she looked so much like Mireet.

He sighed and stared at the ground. _Mireet._

Much as he tried to keep all thoughts of the Wizarding World at bay, images of the beautiful French witch filled his mind. Something else filled his heart.

Regret.

Once again, the universe had conspired against them. He thought back to that night in Mireet's apartment. They had been on the cusp of a special night, of starting to build a life together. Then Ginny's letter came. Then all the funerals and memorials came, one after the other. Every time he looked at Mireet, thought about beginning a relationship with her, he wound up thinking about Tonks and Rana. Two women he'd cared about so much, dead. Even all these months later, their deaths ate at his heart, his soul. If the same happened to Mireet . . .

_The war's over. Nothing will happen to her._

_How do you know?_ Even in peacetime, she could contract some disease, unwittingly come across a cursed object, run into a vampire or werewolf. If he gave himself completely over to Mireet, and something happened to her, his heart, his very soul, would shatter beyond repair.

It also hadn't helped that Mireet spent the summer back in France with her family. He understood her need to return home, to be with her family after the hell of the past few years. But without her around for all those months, it only reinforced his belief that a relationship wasn't in the cards for them.

_Dammit._

He shuffled to the booth, quietly paid for his ticket and walked toward the bleachers.

_It wasn't meant to be, man, _he tried to convince himself. Besides, even if things did become serious between him and Mireet, who's to say they would live happily ever after? Hadn't he thought things were going great when he'd been with Penny Nichols, Rana, and Talia Laribee? Yet every single one had ripped his heart out. He could even say the same about Tonks. That night in the Room of Requirement may have had more to do with the belief they thought they wouldn't survive an invasion of American Death Eaters and dark creatures, but he still cared about her. He couldn't count how many times he wondered what sort of future they may have had if things had been different. Would it have been him she married instead of Lupin? Would they have had a child together?

Would he be lying dead beside her in the Great Hall at Hogwarts? Would he have been kneeling beside a dead wife, consumed with grief and rage?

He chewed on his lower lip as he took the stairs to the bleachers. Every single relationship he'd been in, no matter how brief, seemed to have one common factor.

They all brought him pain.

Jimmy O'Bannon had enough pain to last him two lifetimes. He didn't need any more.

He climbed the steps to one of the top rows and plopped down on the metal bench, staring at his hands, barely listening to the crappy rap music filtering out of the loudspeakers. The cacophony of voices around him faded from his ears. His jaw tightened as kept thinking about Mireet. He pictured her in that nightgown, massaging his shoulders just before Ginny's letter arrived. He thought of the Yule Ball, how gorgeous she looked in that silver gown, the airy feeling that filled his insides when they danced together.

He thought of the night she escaped the Death Eaters in Washington, the blood that covered her arm and her side. The fear he felt at possibility she may die.

Why couldn't this stuff be simple? Why couldn't he just meet a nice girl, fall in love and get married like everyone else?

"Excuse me. Is anyone sitting here?"

O'Bannon looked up in the face of a thin Asian girl with a round face and jet black hair that cascaded far past her shoulder. He turned to the empty space beside him, then back to the girl. "Uh, no. Be my guest. It's only me here anyway."

"Thanks." The girl smiled and slid past him, taking the space next to him. "So just yourself here?"

"Yup."

"Well, my friends should be along in a bit. Maybe we can keep you company, if you don't mind."

He grinned. "Not at all." _Especially if your friends are as good looking as you._

"So do you go here?" the girl asked.

O'Bannon eyed her suspiciously. Why had she asked that? Why hadn't she assumed he was just another student?

_Quit being so paranoid. The war's over. Besides, this is the Muggle World._

"Sorry. I just wouldn't expect someone who goes here to come to a game alone."

"That's okay. No, I don't go here. I was just driving around and saw the banner for the game and decided, what the hell."

"Well, glad you decided to come to our little college." She giggled softly and smiled. She had a very pretty smile.

"Oh. Jimmy O'Bannon, by the way." He held out his hand.

The girl's eyes widened. Surprise fell over her smooth, tanned features.

O'Bannon tensed. What the hell was this about?

"No way. Jimmy O'Bannon?"

"Uh-huh?" His brow furrowed.

"Did you go to Dumont Elementary?"

Now he felt surprise spread over his face. "Yeah?"

The girl gasped in delight and slapped her hand over her chest. "Oh my God, I don't believe it. It's me. Yuki Tamazaki."

O'Bannon's jaw dropped. "Yuki? No way. I mean, you used to be . . . uh . . ."

"Chunky? Yeah, I know. Amazing what aerobics will do for you."

"Well, um, you look great."

"Thanks." She shot him a warm smile. "So do you."

He felt his cheeks go flush for a moment. "Um, thanks. Jeez, I can't believe this. It's been forever since I saw you. What are you up to?"

"I'm majoring in Child Development. I'm hoping to work with special needs children after I graduate."

"Wow. Good for you." He could only imagine what a difficult job that must be. More power to her for wanting to get into that field.

"Thanks. So what about you? Are you going to another college?"

"Um, no. I actually got a job . . . as a youth sports coach in Washington." It wasn't really a lie. He had gotten his old job at the YWWAAA back after the facility had been repaired following the war.

"Washington? How did you wind up there?"

"Um . . . I have an uncle who lives down there. He set me up with it."

"That's so cool you're working with kids." She smiled and shook her head. "I just can't believe it's you. I mean, back in elementary school it was like, one day you were here, the next you just dropped off the face of the earth."

"Uh, yeah." He clenched his teeth. If Yuki knew the real story . . .

He drew a quick breath and continued. "Well, my parents learned about this boarding school up north and decided to send me there. They thought the education would be better."

"Did you like it there?"

"Some stuff, yeah. Other stuff . . . not so much."

"Oh. Well, at least it doesn't sound like it was really bad. Oh! There're my friends. Sandy! Chelsea! Up here!" Yuki waved her arm over her head.

A minute later she introduced him to her two friends, Sandy the slender brunette, and Chelsea the short redhead with a face full of freckles. Immediately after the two girls were seated, the energetic P/A announcer introduced the Mount Ida football team. The stands erupted in applause and cheers as dozens of green and white-clad players dashed onto the field. Waiting on the opposite sidelines were dozens of other players from Husson College, decked out in green and gold.

The game was pretty good. Mount Ida had a slippery running back that gave the Husson defense fits. Husson, meanwhile, had a quarterback who could run just as well as he could throw. When halftime rolled around the score was 24-17 in favor of Mount Ida.

O'Bannon had half his attention on the game. The rest of it was on Yuki as they caught up with each other's lives. This required him to improvise a lot. Not an easy thing to do when the last nine years of his life included going to a school for magic and fighting the followers of the most powerful dark wizard in history. At least he could tell her that he played for his school's hockey team. That was no lie.

"Oh my God," Yuki blurted. "I remember you used to be a total hockey nut. I'm glad you got to play for your school. What about college? Did you ever think of playing there?"

"Yeah, but, well . . . things didn't work out that way. I, uh, wanted to get away from school for a while."

"Oh. Well, you should think about going to college. Maybe even here. The teachers are good for the most part, and you'd have a total blast."

"Maybe he should come to the big party tonight," Chelsea suggested. "Then he can see for himself how fun it is here."

"Chelsea." Yuki whipped her head to her friend, then looked back at him with a shy smile. "There's a couple girls in my dorm who are throwing a party tonight. I mean, if you want to come, you're welcome."

O'Bannon held his breath, staring into Yuki's face, a face that, he thought, emitted some hopefulness.

He glanced around the field as both teams hustled back for the second half. His eyes took in the fans around him, cheering, clapping, chatting away about, he assumed, matters that were by no means life or death. Just Muggles being Muggles. Exactly the reason he'd come back to Boston this weekend. To be around this sort of environment.

He turned back to Yuki. "Count me in."

**XXXXX**

The suite was packed, and loud, as people tried to hold a dozen different conversations over the thumping beat of some techno dance beat. So many students had come to the party it had spilled into the hallway. A couple students opened their dorm rooms to handle the excess. In a way, it reminded O'Bannon of the huge celebration he attended in the Gryffindor Common Room at Hogwarts after Harry completed the first task of the Tri-Wizard Tournament.

_I wonder how Harry and the rest of them are doing over in England._

He shook his head. _You're just a Muggle tonight, Jimmy. Muggle._

He finished off his beer and had to weave past a bunch of students to make it to the cooler for another one. He cracked open the can and spotted Yuki on the other side of the room laughing with her friends Sandy and Chelsea. It took him a while to carve out a passage through the partygoers and join his former elementary school classmate.

"Jimmy! Wooooo!" Yuki held up her beer and beamed at him. She threw her free arm around him and pressed up against him.

O'Bannon felt a hitch in his breath. Heat rose inside him as he gazed at Yuki. The brown sweater and tan slacks she wore hugged her thin body very nicely.

"So, you enjoying the college experience?" She took a swallow of her beer.

He smiled down at her. "Oh, I'm enjoying it thoroughly." He snaked an arm around Yuki's waist.

All three girls let out a loud, "Woooo!" and tapped their beer cans together. O'Bannon joined in the impromptu toast.

"See." Yuki continued to smile wide at him. "This is the sort of fun you're missing stuck down in Washington."

He nodded and looked around the room, taking in the chatting and laughing students. Everyone looked like they were having such a good time.

_When was the last time you had a night remotely like this?_

Hell, he couldn't even remember the last time he had anything that resembled fun.

His eyes caught sight of a couple in the far corner of the room, the guy's face buried in the neck of a euphoric-looking blond.

O'Bannon swallowed, his breaths quickening as he felt Yuki pressed against him. He looked down at her lovely, smiling face, then eyed the graceful curve of her neck, and pictured his lips roaming up and down it.

Reality slammed into him. It had been almost two years since he'd been with a woman. An eternity for someone his age. He thought about that last night he spent with Talia, just before he left for England to deal with the altered Chupacabra. He recalled kissing her lips, her neck, his hands roaming all over her body, the feel of his flesh against hers.

He missed those sensations.

Nearly two years. So long.

He drew a staggered breath and held Yuki tighter against him. The smile on her face grew.

"Hey, Yuki. Um, you wanna go for a walk or something?"

Her eyes lit up. Her chest heaved with a long breath as she waggled her thin eyebrows. "I'd love to."

They finished their beers quickly. O'Bannon took her by the hand and led her toward the door.

"Don't wait up," Yuki called over her shoulder to her two friends.

Sandy and Chelsea squealed with delight as O'Bannon pulled Yuki into the hallway. She giggled as they left the party behind.

A huge grin formed on his face as they neared the stairwell. His heart sped up when he gazed at Yuki's face. Just from looking into her eyes, he could tell that they would be doing more than walking before this night was over.

**XXXXX**

A mass of dark hair greeted O'Bannon as his eyes fluttered open. Confusion swirled in his mind. He wasn't at his parents' home, or his apartment in Washington. Where . . .

His vision started to clear. The sunlight filtering through the shades of a nearby window provided enough light for him to see the room. He spotted a desk, a small portable refrigerator, a stand with a TV and DVD player, posters featuring pop stars, most of whom looked more than a little afeminine.

Then he felt something soft pressing against his torso and looked down.

He still had his right arm draped over Yuki's naked body. Her hair spilled over her face and onto the pillow, her chest and shoulders rising and falling with soft breaths as she slept beside him.

O'Bannon sighed as memories of last night flooded his brain. They had gone for a walk around the campus, arms around each other's waist, ignoring the cold fall air. They talked, laughed, then at some point kissed. Then Yuki suggested they go to her suite. He called his parents, telling him he'd met up with "some old friends from elementary school" and was going to crash with them for the night.

Well, it was sort of the truth, except he met up with just _a _friend from elementary school, and they'd done a lot more during the night than simply crash.

He grinned and fiddled with a strand of Yuki's hair. She moaned, but continued sleeping.

O'Bannon gave her a gentle kiss on the shoulder, then carefully slipped out of bed so as not to wake her. He went to the bathroom, threw some water on his face, and looked in the mirror.

_Okay, Jimmy Boy. What now?_

He worked his jaw back and forth. He hadn't really thought beyond yesterday when he'd met Yuki. Heck, he was just having fun getting reacquainted with someone from his Muggle past. Honestly, when he first met her at the football game, he never imagined they'd actually end up in bed together.

He smiled again, breathing deep as he savored every the memories of last night. He'd almost forgotten just how awesome having sex was.

_Of course, when you haven't done it in a while, and haven't had a whole lot of opportunities since you and Talia broke up . . ._

_Mireet._

Her face blazed in his mind. Guilt swallowed his insides. He gripped the sink and looked down. For nearly four years he'd been dreaming of an intimate night with her. More than a night. He'd yearned for a deep, meaningful life with her.

Instead, he spent the night with a former classmate he'd run into by chance.

_I'm not with Mireet. I shouldn't feel guilty._

Yet he did.

Groaning, he opened the door and stepped out into the suite.

Yuki rolled on her back, brushing strands of hair from her face. She greeted him with a groggy smile. "Morning."

"Hey. How are you doing?"

She moaned and rubbed her forehead. "I think I have a little hangover."

He grinned and sat on the edge of her bed. "Well, at least you're not asking, 'why is there a strange, naked guy in my bedroom?'"

Yuki chuckled. "I wasn't that drunk. And you're not a strange guy, and I know full well why you're in my bedroom."

She sat up, threw her arms around his neck, and kissed him, softly at first, then much, much deeper. Desire exploded inside him. He lowered Yuki onto her back, and the two picked up where they left off last night.

After a shared shower, they got dressed. Yuki treated him to a breakfast of cereal bars she had stashed in her closet and some herbal tea she made in a hot pot. Once they finished eating, she walked him downstairs. They headed to the parking lot, holding hands. Trepidation built up inside him. So far she hadn't asked the question, "Where do we go from here?" Hell, he didn't even know the answer to that.

When they got to his car, Yuki turned to face him. "So, I guess you'll be going back to Washington now?"

"Um, yeah. That's right."

She frowned briefly. "So any idea when you'll be coming back up this way?"

He usually spent most weekends with his parents, but something kept him from telling Yuki this. Instead he replied. "Um, no." It was a struggle to keep from wincing from the lie.

"Oh. Well, um, next time you're back in town, stop by to see me, okay?"

"Yeah. Sure. No prob."

She smiled and stepped closer to him. They shared a long kiss. Yuki cupped his cheek as she took a step back. "Bye, Jimmy."

"Bye."

He watched her head back to her dorm. Yuki glanced over her shoulder, giving him a parting smile. He smiled back and waved. His smile, however, dissolved once she turned around.

O'Bannon decided, there and then, that he would _not_ come by here to see Yuki the next time he was in Boston. Self-loathing crept through him. He never wanted to be this kind of guy, one to sleep with a girl and never bother with her again. Especially a girl like Yuki. She was nice, funny, beautiful. Maybe if he pursued this . . .

_I'd wind up getting hurt again._

He had an awesome night with Yuki, but he hadn't fallen for her like he had Rana or Tonks or Talia.

Or Mireet.

He could never see Yuki again, and he wouldn't be depressed or hurt. It would be just one memorable night, and that was that. They'd both go on with their lives.

He got in his car and turned the key, staring out the windshield thoughtfully. Maybe this was the way to go. A brief fling here, a brief fling there. No commitment, no falling head over heels in love.

Most importantly, no getting hurt.

_**TO BE CONTINUED**_


	35. Unexpected Visitors

**CHAPTER 35: UNEXPECTED VISITORS**

* * *

_I can't believe they're giving me a medal._

O'Bannon had to concentrate to keep from slouching in his seat. He may not have wanted to be here, but he couldn't show it. Not here of all places.

The Grand Meeting Hall of the Continental Wizarding Legislature was packed. Dozens of rows of high-backed red leather chairs lined the enormous room, most of them occupied by Department of Magic officials, reporters, and family members of the people being honored. Even the wizards and witches in the ceiling to floor-sized paintings that adorned the walls watched the ceremony.

His eyes flickered to the podium, where Secretary of Magic Cesario Infante addressed the audience.

"Seven months have passed since the end of one of the most devastating wars the Wizarding World has ever known, and it goes without saying that we owe so much, more than any of us could ever repay, to a certain young man across the Atlantic who defeated . . . Lord VVVoldemort once and for all."

O'Bannon couldn't help but wince. Even after all these months, he still couldn't get used to people actually speaking Voldemort's name.

Mister Infante continued. "But Harry Potter was not the only one who fought against the forces of darkness. The people on this stage all contributed in one way or another to help end this war. Without a doubt, the people you see before you are all heroes."

O'Bannon grunted to himself. He thought back to the night of the setagotha attack, doing everything he could to save Holly Juniper's life, to the point he threatened a little girl with a Cruciatus Curse.

_Some hero._

"The first person I would like to honor," Mr. Infante went on, "is a young witch who is not from this country, but nonetheless provided us with invaluable aid. She maintained the lines of communication between America and Europe. In addition, she delivered much needed supplies to those eighteen children who spent the war in hiding in the mountains from Death Eaters, and she fought with distinction at the Second Battle of Helghorst Island. She is a person who deserves the undying gratitude of wizards, witches, and Muggles on both sides of the Atlantic. Ladies and gentlemen, it is my honor to award the Medallion for Meritorious Service to Mireet Miradeaux."

Applause echoed throughout the high-ceilinged hall. O'Bannon watched Mireet rise a few seats down from him, dressed in golden robes with her hair done up. She walked past him, shooting him a quick glance and smile. He smiled back as she strode up to Mr. Infante.

Guilt slithered through him. He barely paid attention to Mr. Infante presenting Mireet with her medal. Other images dominated his mind. Images of him and Yuki Tamazaki in bed together.

_Why do I keep feeling guilty? Mireet and I aren't together. We're not going to be together._

He glanced back at Mireet as she started back to her seat. He smiled again when she passed by him.

His imagination changed the scenes in his mind's eye. No longer was he making love to Yuki. Instead, he was making love to Mireet.

The way it should be.

O'Bannon shut his eyes, pushing the thoughts out of his head. He had to stop torturing himself over what he could never have.

More people were called up to receive medals. Some he knew, though only by reputation. Among those honored were Captain Kessinger and several other Muggles who served aboard the _USS New Jersey_ during the Battle of Helghorst Island.

"Next, I would like to present four remarkable individuals."

O'Bannon tensed at Mr. Infante's announcement. _Great. It's our turn._

"Their contributions to the war effort go back long before the uprising. None of them believed the propaganda put out by then British Minster of Magic Fudge that Lord VVVoldemort was not back. Instead, they put their faith in their friends in Britain, and did what they could to warn everyone about VVVoldemort's return. Upon their graduation from the Salem Witches Institute, they immediately joined the Guild of the Light and threw themselves headlong into the fight against the darkness. And when the lives of eighteen children were in danger, they took them into the mountains and overcame many hardships and dangers to keep them all safe. Their raid on the Death Eater supply base at Staley's End not only disrupted enemy operations along the Eastern Seaboard, it also served to rally other wizards and witches to stand up to VVVoldemort's forces during one of the darkest periods of the war."

O'Bannon cast his eyes to the floor. What bullcrap. Looking back on it, the main reason they'd gone on that raid was because they were pissed off. Pissed off that Jared's mother and the parents of some of the children they protected had died. Pissed off that no one did anything while the Death Eaters committed mass murder at will.

He then thought of the guard he suffocated. A shiver went up his spine as he remembered the fear and pleading in her eyes.

"It is with great pride that I present to you, Jimmy O'Bannon, Artimus Rand . . . my nephew, Jared Diaz, and my daughter, Rosa Infante"

O'Bannon stiffened at the pause as Mr. Infante looked their way. His gaze shifted from the Secretary of Magic to Rosa and Jared. Rosa maintained a neutral expression. Jared stared at his lap, his face twisting in a scowl.

It seemed clear the issues that plagued the Infante/Diaz Clan were far from resolved.

O'Bannon sighed as he and his three friends stood. Applause rang throughout the Grand Meeting Hall as they walked toward Mr. Infante. The man smiled and clapped, though his smile appeared rather forced when his eyes fell on Jared and Rosa.

Frustration built up inside O'Bannon. He clenched his teeth, wishing he could just scream at Jared, Rosa and her father, "Will you three knock it off!" He just wanted his friends' family back the way it was.

_Like that'll ever happen with Mrs. Diaz dead._

The quartet stood by Mr. Infante's side as he continued. "In recognition of your contributions to our ultimate victory over Lord VVVoldemort, and to honor your bravery and sacrifice, I present to you four, the highest honor Wizarding America can bestow upon its citizens. The Haldus Cross."

O'Bannon bristled at the mention of the medal named after Haldus Hillbibble, who led the American wizards seeking independence from England during The Great Break. He was actually receiving it. Him! For what? For hiding in the Appalachians for nine months while other wizards and witches actually fought and died?

This medal was meant for real heroes, not someone like him.

He stood his ground as Mr. Infante stepped over to him, holding out a sparkling gold cross attached to a red ribbon. What he really wanted to do was shake his head and walk out of the Grand Meeting Hall. Even he couldn't bring himself to commit such an egregious breach of decorum, especially not toward a man he considered more a family member than simply the father of one of his best friends.

Lips tightened, O'Bannon lowered his head and allowed Mr. Infante to drape the Haldus Cross around his neck.

"Congratulations, Jimmy. You deserve this."

"Thanks," was the only response he could muster as the two shook hands.

Mr. Infante presented the other three with their Haldus Crosses. Artimus looked utterly shocked to be receiving it. Rosa managed a smile when she got hers. Jared couldn't stop scowling as he received his medal. For a moment, Mr. Infante's smile faded. When he got it back, the two exchanged a very, _very _brief handshake.

The quartet started back to their seats.

"Actually," Mr. Infante held out a hand. "I'd like you four to stay here for just another moment."

O'Bannon caught himself slouching to one side. _What now?_ He just wanted this damn ceremony over with so he could get the hell out of here.

"The contributions of Rosa, Jimmy, Artimus and Jared were not confined to this country. Twice during the war, they traveled across the ocean to help our friends in Great Britain. It is no exaggeration to say what these four did prevented not one, but two disasters from befalling that country."

Mr. Infante took a quick breath before continuing. "For everything these four have done to aid England during one of the darkest periods in its history, the Ministry of Magic has sent over a special delegation to properly thank them for their assistance."

O'Bannon drew his head back. Special delegation? He wondered who they could be.

The curtain at the far end of the stage opened. Four wizards and three witches walked out on stage.

His eyes widened. Gasps of shock rose from the audience. Flashbulbs from cameras exploded like miniature super novas.

"No friggin' way," Jared uttered in breathless shock.

O'Bannon said nothing. He just continued to gape as a skinny young man with glasses, unkempt black hair and a lightning bolt scar on his forehead approached him.

"Hello, Jimmy." Harry Potter extended his hand.

It took a moment for him to get over the unexpected sight of his friend, the young wizard who killed Lord Voldemort and ended the war.

"Harry? Oh my God, this is a surprise."

Harry wasn't the only familiar face from across the pond. Sidling up behind him came Ginny Weasley, her brother Ron, Hermione Granger, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and . . .

O'Bannon swallowed when he looked into the face of George Weasley. But this George Weasley looked nothing like the one he'd known for years. He looked skinner, his face drawn and ashen, lacking any sort of vibrancy. And his eyes. So much sorrow. And something else. George just seemed . . . lost.

"Hey, Jimmy." George greeted him, his voice hollow. The two embraced, O'Bannon pounding his friend's back. When they released one another, O'Bannon looked around, ready to greet . . .

His neck muscles tightened. He couldn't fathom how this could be. How could George Weasley be here, but not Fred?

The rest of the Weasleys hugged him or shook his hand. It became a blur to O'Bannon. One thought dominated his mind.

_Fred should be here._

Mr. Infante called up to the podium Mr. Weasley, who now served as the Head of the Ministry's Office of War Victims' Reparations, Relocation and Adoption.

"Good afternoon, everyone. Minister of Magic Shacklebolt sends his greetings to the population of Wizarding America, and wishes he could be here today. Nonetheless, the Minister feels it important to recognize the contributions these four wonderful Americans made in the war against Lord V-V-VVVoldemort. For that, it is my honor to turn the proceedings over to a young man who I'm sure you all know. The man who defeated the most powerful dark wizard in history, and brought peace to our world. A young man who I'm proud to say I consider part of my family. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you, Harry Potter."

Wild applause thundered throughout the Grand Meeting Hall. More flashbulbs went off. Harry nodded to Mr. Weasley, giving him a shaky smile. He drew a couple deep breaths as he moved toward the podium.

A pang of sympathy went through O'Bannon. He noticed some of the color flee Harry's cheeks. His Adam's apple bobbed up and down. He kept his head down, trying not to look at the audience.

Harry couldn't have looked more uncomfortable.

It seemed strange, O'Bannon thought, that someone who faced down Lord Voldemort could be so nervous about addressing a room packed with hundreds of people. But one thing he'd come to learn about Harry was he hated being the center of attention. O'Bannon couldn't blame him. Harry had been a hero of the Wizarding World since the age of one. He'd become "The-Boy-Who-Lived," then "The Chosen One." People spoke about him like some living legend, which, he knew, annoyed Harry to no end. They sought out his company, not because they thought him nice or cool, but simply because he was famous.

So Harry's reluctance at speaking in public did not totally surprise him.

Still, with typical British "stiff upper lip" resolve, his friend pressed on.

"Um, hello to you all. I know many people are quick to credit me with defeating Voldemort and ending the war. But the fact is, the war didn't end solely because of one person. There are many others we owe a great debt to. People who, were it not for their courage and sacrifice, victory would not have been possible. And four of those people are standing next to me."

Harry glanced at the quartet. "Jimmy, Jared, Rosa and Artimus risked everything to cross an ocean to help my country, not once, but twice. The first time, they overcame numerous obstacles to warn us about an impending invasion by American Death Eaters and dark creatures. The second time, they helped us hunt down Chupacabra mutated into savage beasts by Voldemort. They have fought and bled for their country and mine. And after everything we've been through together, I feel privileged to call them my friends."

He turned to face them. "Jimmy, Jared, Rosa, Artimus. On behalf of Minister of Magic Kingsley Shacklebolt, I present to you, the Order of Merlin, Second Class."

O'Bannon shut his eyes, summoning every ounce of discipline to not shake his head. First a Haldus Cross, now the Order of Merlin? He wondered if Minister Shacklebolt would give him such a medal if he'd seen the way he stumbled through The Longathian Tunnel Affair.

After Harry presented the quartet their medals, Mr. Infante announced an end to the ceremony.

Reporters rushed the stage, the vast majority making for Harry. He vanished within a wall of robed humanity.

"Ah, I can see the headlines now." O'Bannon heard a female voice behind him. "'Harry Potter Actually Sets Foot On American Soil . . . And Oh Yeah, You Lot Got Some Medals.'"

He spun around and faced a short, slender girl with long red hair. She smiled at him, but he remembered her smiles being much brighter.

"Hey, Ginny." He hugged her.

"It's good to see you again, Jimmy."

"You, too." He pulled back, gently gripping her shoulders. He bit his lip and held his breath for several seconds. "Um, how are you guys . . . how are you doing?"

Ginny sighed, her shoulders drooping. "We're . . . managing."

"Yeah." The corners of his mouth twisted. Surely he could come up with a better response than that. Something meaningful, something supportive.

No such words came to mind.

Sorrow fell over Ginny's face. "Days like this make it harder. He should be here, congratulating you, most likely jinxing your medals to make them squirt some sort of gunk all over everyone."

O'Bannon briefly chuckled. He scanned the crowd until he spotted George, who was talking to Jared. From his melancholy expression, it appeared a prank like that, or _any_ prank for that matter, was the furthest thing from his mind.

"Yeah. A lot of people should be here that aren't."

Ginny offered him a comforting smile. She squeezed his wrist. "I'm so sorry about Tonks. I know you two were close."

"Thanks." Again he scanned the crowd until he found Mireet, who shook hands with Mrs. Infante. His insides collapsed, thinking about that night with Tonks in the Room of Requirement, thinking about her death, and Rana's, thinking about the same thing happening to Mireet, wondering how much heartache he could endure.

He knew the answer, of course. He'd reached the limit in that department.

It convinced him even more that he'd made the right decision not to pursue a relationship with Mireet.

"Jimmy! Jimmy!"

His head snapped around. Several reporters charged toward him.

_Great._

He frowned as they mobbed around him and Ginny.

"How does it feel to have a medal presented to you by Harry Potter?"

"Do you feel privileged to have The Chosen One call you a friend?"

"What's he really like?"

"Miss! Miss!" One witch in gaudy green and purple robes and wearing way too much make-up shouted at Ginny. "You're Harry Potter's girlfriend, right? What's it like being the envy of every witch in the world? Oh! Are you planning to get married? Do you feel worthy of his love?"

O'Bannon looked to Ginny. The color of her cheeks matched that of her hair. Actually, her face glowed brighter than her hair. He couldn't believe the youngest Weasley hadn't exploded already. Though judging from her crimson face and trembling head, an eruption seemed moments away. He needed to get her away from here before that happened.

"You know what?" He glared at the reporters. "Harry's a cool guy, I'm glad he's my friend, and he's lucky to have someone like Ginny for a girlfriend. Now if you'll excuse me, it's been two years since I last saw my friends from Britain, and I'd like to do some catching up."

O'Bannon pressed his fingertips on Ginny's back, urging her forward. Thankfully, she complied.

_Jeez, is being an idiot one of the requirements for being a reporter?_

"Jimmy!" One of the idiots called out before he could take four steps. "Considering all your exploits during the war, do you feel like you're the American version of Harry Potter?"

He stopped in his tracks. Disbelief overwhelmed him. For several seconds he couldn't move. Did they really think . . .

How could they even consider . . .

Snorting, he whirled around. The reporters leaned forward, anticipation radiating from their faces.

"Am I the American version of Harry Potter? Well, let's see. Lord V-VVoldemort never made me number one on his hit list. I never had to trek up and down an entire country searching for pieces of that guy's soul to destroy. And here's the big one . . . I never had to go one-on-one with him, and I wasn't the guy who killed him! So to answer your stupid question, no, I am most definitely _not _the American version of Harry Potter."

O'Bannon stalked off, catching Ginny glowering at the reporters and shaking her head. He now knew why Harry hated all the publicity that came his way.

**XXXXX**

Rosa held the bronze, circular medal in her hand, watching the engraving of Merlin hold his sparkling wand high above his head, his long hair fluttering as if blown by the wind. Never in her life did she imagine herself receiving an Order of Merlin . . . and a Haldus Cross to boot! And all before she turned twenty-one.

She chewed on the inside of her cheek, thinking about what other wizards had done during the war, wizards like Harry Potter. Then she thought about all she'd done, and wondered if it warranted two awards such as these.

And if it didn't, could she live up to everything the Haldus Cross and the Order of Merlin represented?

"Congratulations, honey. I'm so proud of you."

Rosa turned toward the source of the voice. She spotted Jenna Fabrici, smiling and wrapping her arms around Artimus' neck, then kissing him. He smiled down at her and pulled her into a hug.

Warmth spread through Rosa. She couldn't put into words how happy she was for Artimus. After everything he'd been through, he deserved someone like Jenna, who loved him and seemed genuinely happy around him.

Her smile widened as she watched the couple continue to hug. Scenes played out in her mind of Artimus marrying Jenna, having children, and creating the sort of family he never had.

A flicker of anger went through her. She recalled how Artimus had whispered to her before the ceremony began that he saw no sign of his father, or any other member of his family, in the audience.

_Unbelievable._ All his life, Artimus had been told by his rat bastard father what a disappointment he was, that he'd never amount to anything. Yet here on the day when his son received two of the highest honors in the Wizarding World, Ulysses Rand was nowhere to be found.

If a Haldus Cross and an Order of Merlin couldn't change that jagoff's opinion of Artimus, nothing ever would.

"Rosa."

She spun around, wanting to smile at the person before her, yet also wanting to shed a tear.

Uncle Irving looked at her, his face devoid of a smile, his eyes as lost and lifeless as George's.

_George._ A lump formed in his throat.

"Congratulations," he said in a hollow voice. "You deserve those awards."

"Thanks, Uncle Irving." She embraced him.

He hugged her back, though it almost felt perfunctory, lacking any sort of emotion.

She bit her lip, hugging him tighter. It was all she could do to keep from crying. The man she hugged wasn't her uncle. Not the uncle she'd known all her life. Strong yet loving, intense yet kind.

He wasn't even alive any more. He just simply existed.

Would he ever get better?

Uncle Irving released her. He gazed at her quietly for a few moments, nodded and shuffled off.

Tears stung her eyes. _Oh Merlin, don't cry here._

Rosa sucked down deep breaths, trying to settle herself.

That's when she saw her. That's when the ache in her heart turned to anger.

Her mother stood about fifteen feet away, conversing with Mrs. Weasley.

Rosa stalked off. The last thing she wanted was be anywhere around her mother, the woman who took Uncle Irving's job away from him. The woman who took a man on the edge of complete despair and gave him that final push into the abyss.

What sort of person does that to their own brother?

She glanced over her shoulder, making sure her mother wasn't coming her way. She feared any meeting between them would end in a shouting match. If that happened in the Grand Meeting Hall, in front of all these people, she could kiss her auror career good-bye before it even started.

Rosa scowled, thinking back to that day when her mother had been selected as the new Director of the U.S. Aurors Bureau. She had thought that was so cool at the time.

She knew better now.

"_If you get out of line one more time, you are finished here!"_ She recalled her mother shouting those words at her after she roughed up that idiot trainee Riggleman – who had since washed out – in a combat exercise.

Blood pulsed through her cheeks. She clenched her fists, wondering when her mother stopped being just "Mom" and became a witch on a power trip.

Rosa stepped around a mass of babbling people, looking for a clear path to the exit.

She skidded to a halt, eyes locked on a familiar figure.

George Weasley stood a few feet away, talking to Jimmy's parents.

Her heart sped up. Her throat tightened as she scanned his face, that handsome face marred by sorrow. She couldn't bear to see him in so much pain. Could she do anything to alleviate it, even a little?

She froze when George's gaze fell on her. She tensed, gathered her courage, and walked over to him.

"Hey, Rosa. Congratulations." He nodded to the medals around her neck.

She clenched her teeth, holding back a sob. That voice. It didn't even sound like George. Not her George. Where was zest, the passion, that underlying mischievousness?

Rosa said nothing. Instead she marched up to him, flung her arms around him, and kissed him full on the mouth. His hands grasped her sides. She closed her eyes tighter. Even as she kissed him, she wanted to cry. Where was the passionate embrace she'd grown used to during their brief time together in England?

She pulled her lips from his and gave him a shaky smile. "It's so good to see you again, George."

"You too." The faintest hint of a smile traced his lips, then vanished.

Rosa caught a glimpse of Jimmy's parents. Mr. O'Bannon stared as his shoes, while Mrs. O'Bannon's wide eyes darted off in another direction. She cleared her throat and said, "Well, we'll leave you two be." She reached out and squeezed George's arm. "Take care, George."

"You too, Mrs. O'Bannon. Mister O'Bannon."

After Jimmy's parents left, Rosa looked around the Grand Hall. Hundreds of wizards and witches still mingled. The politicians made the rounds, making sure to shake hands and congratulate every single medal winner. And the reporters. They swooped down on everyone like vultures, taking what they needed before moving on to the next victim.

It was not the sort of place she imagined having a reunion with her old boyfriend.

"Can we go someplace a little less crowded?" she suggested.

"Sounds fine to me."

Rosa took hold of George's hand and led him up the aisle, weaving their way around several people, until they reached the exit. They slowly walked down the deserted hallway. She felt grateful the Department of Magic scheduled this ceremony for a Saturday. Not many witches and wizards would be working here today. They could have some sense of privacy here.

She looked up at George. Pain stabbed her heart when she saw his head lowered, no smile, no spark of life on his face.

Her chest tightened. She fought back the urge to cry, instead clutching George's hand in a vice-like grip, as if that would keep him from falling into the same emotional black hole as her uncle.

Hate flared inside her. Hatred for Voldemort and his damn Death Eaters. They started this stupid war. They killed Fred. They tore apart George's very soul.

_Burn in Hell, you bastards. Burn in Hell all of you!_

They stopped at an intersection. Rosa turned to face him, clutching both his hands. She took a ragged breath. "How . . . um, how are . . . I mean. How are you doing?"

George's shoulders slumped. He looked at her with those dead eyes. "It's been seven months, Rosa. Seven months, and I still can't accept it. I don't want to accept it."

She said nothing, just clenched her teeth to keep from crying.

George took a slow breath. "I'm sorry about your aunt. I know you were really close to her."

"Thank you." She forced the words through the sudden lump in her throat.

"How . . . how are you holding up?"

"I'm . . . coping." She said nothing more. She wouldn't burden George with her problems, not in his current state.

He gave her hand a gentle squeeze. "I know, it's hard."

He closed his eyes and sighed, leaning back against the wall. "I swear, Rosa, I don't know how I'm supposed to get through this, or even if I can. Fred and I were a team. We did everything together. Shared everything. We were always there for one another . . . except, for . . . that night." He looked away, jaw clenched for a moment. "If I had just been there . . ."

Rosa couldn't breathe, couldn't speak. She had to focus all her willpower on not crying.

_George needs you to be strong for him._

She leaned into him, pressing her cheek against his chest. Her insides quivered as George wrapped his arms around her and buried his face in her hair.

"Honestly, there are days I hate going into the shop. There are days when I hate the shop itself. Fred and I built that place from nothing." His voice sounded strained. "Everywhere I look, I see him. It's supposed to be _our _shop. Only, there is no more _our. _No more _we._ It's just . . . _me."_

He said the last word as though it was blasphemous. Rosa closed her eyes, tremors racing through her body. She hated seeing him like this. She had to do something to help him.

"George, come back to my apartment. You can stay the night if you'd like. Let's just . . . let's just spend some time together."

George froze. Rosa's brow furrowed. She looked up at his face.

Her stomach lurched when she saw his expression. His eyes narrowed. Deep lines etched in his cheeks and the corners of his mouth.

"I don't believe you." George spoke each word deliberately.

"George?" She stepped back from him. "What are you talking about?"

"You think jumping into bed with you is going to make everything better?"

Rosa's jaw fell open. "George, that's . . . that's not what I -"

"I lost my brother, Rosa! More than a brother. My twin! I lost a part of _me!"_

She shook uncontrollably. Tears blurred her eyes. He couldn't be saying . . . he couldn't be thinking . . .

"Right then. Let's go off and shag. Won't that be wonderful? And when we wake up in the morning, guess what? FRED WILL STILL BE DEAD!!!"

Tears spilled from her eyes. This couldn't be happening. George couldn't be saying these things.

"So do me a favor. Find someone else to give a sympathy shag to!"

He stormed off, his pounding feet echoing through the hallway.

Rosa turned and watched him go, her mouth open, trying to say something.

Instead she fell against the wall, slid to the floor, and sobbed.

_**TO BE CONTINUED**_


	36. To A Far Away Land

**CHAPTER 36: TO A FAR AWAY LAND**

* * *

Jared wanted nothing more than to leave.

He hated thinking that. It made him sound like a terrible son.

But one glance across the table at his father sent his insides tumbling into a black hole.

He'd lost too much weight. Stubble covered his face, as if shaving every day had become too much of an effort. Even the house itself reflected Dad's physical state. Dust had settled on every surface and piece of furniture. The windows all looked smudged. Unwashed, encrusted plates filled the sink.

Jared dared another look at his father. The man stared blankly at his plate, picking at his food.

_He's given up._ Jared's jaw quivered. He couldn't believe he actually thought that. Quitting just wasn't in Dad's nature.

At least it hadn't been when Mom was alive. Or when he still led SMACRAT.

What did he have worth living for now?

Jared gripped his fork. He aimed his narrow eyes at the wall, imagining the house just beyond this one. The house where Aunt Adelaide and Uncle Cesario lived.

_This is all your fault._

He ground his teeth, thinking of all the times he'd stayed over their house, how they'd become another set of parents to him.

Now he never wanted to see them again.

"You know we had a meeting last week with Miss Freen," Oriana said, breaking the silence around the table. "She runs that primary school in Shannock. It looks like she's going to accept Rodolfo there for next fall. Tell Grandpa how excited you are."

"Yeah," the five-year-old blurted. "They had all these pictures there of wizards and witches and animals, and they even had a ferret in there, and I got to pet it."

"That's nice." Dad didn't even look at his grandson.

Oriana's jaw visibly tightened. Jared sighed to himself. This had become a common occurrence. His sister-in-law would try to get some conversation going with Dad, usually involving something Rodolfo did. Rarely did his replies go beyond four or five words, if he even replied at all.

To be honest, it started to annoy Jared. Dad seemed determined to shut out everyone, and Oriana didn't seem to get it through her head that talking about stuff like Rodolfo starting primary school didn't mean anything to a man who'd lost his wife and his job in less than a year.

Oriana cleared the table once everyone finished eating. She then looked around the house and grimaced.

"Um, Dad? Would you like me to come over sometime this weekend and clean up here?"

"Don't trouble yourself," Dad muttered as he pushed himself away from the table and slowly stood.

"Please, it would be no trouble. In fact," Oriana made another scan of the house. "Maybe we can get some things to brighten up the place. Some new curtains, plants. That one chair in the living room looks on its last legs. Why don't you come with us to Milmothryn Market this weekend? I can help you pick out some stuff."

Dad's hands clamped down on the back of the chair. His face stiffened. "You think that'll really help?"

Oriana canted her head. "What?"

Dad snapped his head toward his daughter-in-law. "Getting new curtains. Cleaning the house. Coming over here once a week to make sure I don't starve to death. Do you think that really helps?"

Jared held his breath. Dread swelled within him. _Please, Dad. Don't –_

"It doesn't help one damn bit!" Dad swung around toward Oriana, his right foot pounding on the floor. She gasped and jumped back. Esteban hurried around the table and clasped a hand on Dad's shoulder.

"Dad, calm down."

He looked over his shoulder at Esteban. "What the hell is wrong with your wife?"

Esteban's face reddened. Jared couldn't move, couldn't even breathe. Would his brother go off on Dad?

Somehow, Esteban held back his anger. "Oriana is just trying to help."

"How? How is making me dinner or picking out curtains going to help? How is any of that going to make up for the fact my wife, and your mother, is dead!"

No one spoke. Jared cast his gaze to the floor, biting down on the inside of his cheek.

_He's right._ None of these family dinners helped Dad any. Hell, it seemed every time they came over, he looked worse than the previous week.

"I don't need your food or your pity." Dad scowled at Esteban and Oriana. "What I need is . . . is . . ."

His face contorted, as if he strained to keep his head from exploding. With a final look at everyone, he snorted and stalked out of the kitchen. No one spoke as they heard Dad stomp upstairs, followed by the slamming of a door.

Oriana's hand went to her mouth. A brief sob escaped her throat as Esteban walked over to her and wrapped her in his arms.

Tension crushed every muscle in Jared's body. He backed up until he found himself pressed against the wall. His eyes swept back and forth over the floor as Dad's outburst replayed in his mind. He'd seen Dad angry plenty of times, but this? _"What the hell is wrong with your wife?"_ His stomach lurched at those words. They didn't seem real. How could he say something like that? Mom and Dad had always adored Oriana.

_Maybe if she wasn't trying to overdo it with the helpfulness . . ._

"Mommy? Daddy?"

All heads turned toward Rodolfo. The boy sat in his chair, tears in his eyes.

"Does Grandpop not like us anymore?"

Oriana sobbed and hurried over to her son. "Oh sweetie, no, no, no." She hugged him and stroked his mop of dark hair. "Grandpop's just a little . . . upset. He still loves you. He . . . he really does."

She kissed the top of his head, straightened up, and wiped her eyes. "We have to go up and talk to him."

She headed for the twisting staircase. Esteban put a gentle hand on his wife to stop her. "Oriana, wait. Do you really think Dad's in any mood to hear from us?"

"We have to try."

"We've been trying for how many months now? Mom's been dead over a year. He's still not over it, and nothing we're doing is helping."

"Dammit, Esteban, he's your father! Are you just going to give up on him?"

"What the hell are we supposed to do?" Esteban flung his arms out to his sides. "He doesn't even want our help."

"Then what? We just let him deteriorate? Let him shut himself off from the entire world?"

Esteban bit his lip. "I don't know." He sighed. "Look. Maybe we should just let him be tonight. We'll . . . we'll think of something tomorrow."

"Esteban, we can't just leave him like this."

"I said we'll think of something tomorrow." This time Esteban spoke more forcefully.

Oriana's angular features contorted in fury. She released a long, loud breath from her nostrils. "Fine," she said through clenched teeth.

Esteban collected Rodolfo and followed his wife over to the fireplace. Oriana snatched some Floo Powder from an urn on the mantle and chucked it into the opening. Moments later green flames gushed out.

"Goodnight, Jared," she muttered before stomping into the flames.

Esteban looked at him for several silent seconds. "You gonna be okay?"

He grunted. "Yeah. Sure. I'll see you later."

Esteban nodded and slapped him on the shoulder.

"Bye, Uncle Jared." Rodolfo gave him a wave as weak as his voice.

"Bye." He frowned as he watched his brother and his nephew walk hand-in-hand into the flames, which receded as soon as the two vanished.

Shoulders slumped, Jared stared at the mouth of the fireplace. He then turned and eyed the staircase, thinking about Dad, probably in his room, doing . . . what? Sitting quietly, thinking about Mom? Crying? He never imagined his father crying over anything. But there had been some times when he'd walked by his room, and . . .

He thumped a fist against his leg. Somebody had to do something to help Dad.

_Here's a thought. Why don't _you_ do something about it?_

Icy blades of fear stabbed his spine and went deep into his stomach. What kind of son would leave his father in a state like this? He had to do something. At least check on him. Say a few words before he Flooed home.

_Like what?_ He thought back to those first weeks in the Appalachians, how depressed Artimus had been over the death of his brother. What had he done to help him? Slap him on the shoulder and smile a few times? That was the best he could do? If he couldn't comfort one of his best friends, how could he comfort his own father?

He clenched his teeth and shook his head in frustration. He turned around, his eyes shifting from the fireplace to the urn of Floo Powder. Should he leave, let his father wallow in misery, or should he take some initiative and actually try to help him?

A sardonic laugh burst from his mouth. Initiative. When had he _ever _exercised that? He'd spent his entire life taking cues from other people. First it was Rosa. Whatever adventure she came up with, be it exploring troll caves or sneaking out of bed at night to hunt for any number of nocturnal creatures, he went right along with her. Then at Salem, and for two years beyond, there had been Jimmy. No matter how bad the situation got, he always knew what to do. Jared had no problem taking direction from a guy like that.

Rosa and Jimmy would know what to do here.

The problem was, they weren't here. He was.

And as usual, he had no clue what to do.

"I'm sorry, Dad."

With a final sigh, Jared tossed some Floo Powder into the fireplace and went home.

**XXXXX**

Jared didn't sleep well. Mostly he laid in bed feeling guilty about leaving Dad, or feeling guilty he couldn't do anything to help him. Then when he did manage to fall asleep, nightmares plagued him. He dreamt of the night Mireet came to their camp and told him his mother had died. He dreamt about the setagotha attack, vividly recalling his fear that little Holly Juniper would die. He dreamt of the night the Death Eaters attacked their camp. How many times during that battle did he fear none of them would live through it?

Even three cups of coffee couldn't energize him. He shuffled into the Magical Museum of North America, grunting at co-workers who bid him, "Good morning" as they passed in the hallways, and ambled down to basement office. He groaned as he plopped into his chair. After rubbing his eyes, Jared glanced at the Indiana Jones poster on his wall. He took in Jones' heroic pose and the confidence radiating from his angular face.

At that moment, he considered taking down the Muggle movie poster. He felt unworthy to have it on his wall. After all, Indiana Jones was a hero who knew what to do in even the most impossible of situations.

The same couldn't be said for him.

Sighing, he leaned forward and scanned his desk, buried in a mass of parchment. He also noticed a sealed envelope addressed to him from the Office of the Investigation and Recovery of Magical Relics.

Jared grunted, pretty much guessing what this was about.

He ripped open the envelope and read the letter.

_Dear Mr. Diaz,_

_I must inform you that your current liaison from our office, Bryant Balliwick, has requested a termination of your partnership. Citing your hostile and disrespectful attitude toward him, and given your past dealings with other members of this office, I have granted Mr. Balliwick's request. _

_Furthermore, I have written your superiors at the Magical Museum of North America asking for a review on whether you should be allowed to continue being part of the ongoing search for magical relics missing since the end of the war . . ._

Jared crumpled up the parchment and tossed it high in the air. He whipped out his wand and blasted it to ashes.

"Whatever." He leaned back in his chair and propped his feet on his desk. So he'd been hostile and disrespectful toward Balliwick. So he'd been like that to the three other Office of the Investigation and Recovery of Magical Relics liaisons. Then maybe they should stop sticking him with people who were assholes, stark-raving bitches, or in Balliwick's case, completely incompetent.

He'd probably get another chewing out by his boss. Not the first time that's happened. He just prayed Jennings Hurst, the head of the museum, didn't spew that bullcrap about him not being a team player. He knew all about being a team player.

So long as he had the right team around him.

Jared closed his eyes. What he wouldn't give to be with Rosa, Jimmy and Artimus again. Sure they all had their flaws. Rosa was bossy and cocky, Jimmy got temperamental when things didn't go his way, and Artimus suffered from a lack of self-confidence. But put them all together, and they were invincible. Put them all together, and they'd track down the rest of those missing artifacts in no time.

_Maybe I should suggest that._

Why not? What the four of them did during the war had been well publicized. Who wouldn't want four war heroes searching for missing magical relics?

But Jared quickly dismissed the idea. Neither Mr. Hurst nor the Office of the Investigation and Recovery of Magical Artifacts would listen to any idea he had.

He just sat at his desk for the next hour, sometimes dozing, sometimes thinking about how much his job here sucked, or how much life in general sucked.

A piece of parchment that somewhat resembled a bird fluttered into his office and landed on his lap. Jared snatched it and unfolded it.

_Jared,_

_Come to my office now._

_Jennings Hurst._

"Great," he muttered.

Moments later he got to his feet and headed out of his office, walking a little faster than expected. He just wanted to get this meeting with Hurst over with as soon as possible so he could go back to work . . . or not work. Whatever.

He figured Hurst would take him off the case. Or maybe he'd just fire him. It wasn't like he'd been a model employee.

The thought didn't fill him with any sort of dread. So what if Hurst fired him? Right now he was beyond caring.

When he reached Hurst's office, he found the door open. He didn't bother knocking and walked inside.

Jennings Hurst, a rotund wizard with a shiny forehead flanked by gray hair, sat behind a highly polished, neatly organized desk. The window behind him looked out on Muggle Washington, with motorists and pedestrians, who saw the museum as an abandoned office building, passing by. Several moving photos hung from the walls, all of them showing Hurst with famous political leaders and explorers from all over the Wizarding World.

Jared stood in front of Hurst's desk for a few seconds until the fat man looked up. He acknowledged him with a grunt. "Have a seat."

Jared fell into a curved leather chair as Hurst used his wand to shut the door.

"I understand another liaison from the Office of the Investigation and Recovery of Magical Relics has decided to quit on you."

"Uh-huh."

"That's what, the fourth one who's done that."

"Uh-huh."

Hurst shifted in his chair, grimacing at Jared. "It would appear you're not cut out for this sort of work."

He shrugged his shoulders. _Let's just get this over with so I can get on with my life._

The skin around Hurst's eyebrows crinkled in annoyance. "Well then, perhaps I should give you a job you are cut out to do."

Jared's brow furrowed. _Da'hell._

"There have been some recently unearthed ruins of a Khmer wizarding settlement in Thailand. It looks between one thousand and eleven hundred years old. Wizarding researchers from all over the world are headed for that site, and the Museum needs to have someone there as well. I want you to be our representative."

"Me?" Jared gaped at his boss. He couldn't believe this. He'd been nothing but a pain in the ass to this guy. And now he was sending off to what sounded like a primo assignment?

_What gives?_

"You're much better suited for this sort of field work," Hurst told him. "I have to tell you, the duration of this assignment will be rather long. A year, probably more. But, to turn down an opportunity like this would be . . . _unwise."_

Jared's mouth tightened. He studied Hurst's face and eyes. His expression said it all. Hurst wasn't sending him to Thailand because he thought he was a good field researcher. He was sending him to Thailand to get him out of his hair.

_A year in exile, in Thailand. _He worked his jaw back and forth. A whole year, maybe more, out of the country.

_Isn't this what you wanted? To travel?_

He then thought of his family. How could he leave them in the state they were in?

Jared suppressed a sardonic chuckle. Like he was doing any good for his family now. He couldn't stand his aunt and uncle. He barely saw Rosa because of her auror training. And Dad . . .

He had no idea how to help him, and he couldn't stand watching him turn into a weakened husk of a human being who existed more than he lived.

Taking a deep breath, he stared his boss right in the eye. "If that's the case, Mister Hurst, then Thailand here I come."

_**TO BE CONTINUED**_


	37. A Stinging Blow

**CHAPTER 37: A STINGING BLOW**

* * *

An uncomfortable feeling clawed at the back of Jimmy O'Bannon's mind.

In truth, the feeling had been with him since he and his parents met Rosa and her parents outside Faneuil Hall before entering Milmothryn Market.

He looked across the table at Mr. and Mrs. Infante, who engaged in small talk with his parents. Both the Secretary of Magic and the Director of the U.S. Aurors Bureau spoke in pleasant tones, but O'Bannon couldn't help clench his teeth when he noticed their smiles, their stiff postures. The Infantes seemed to be putting on a brave front instead of genuinely enjoying this get together. A couple times he caught Mrs. Infante dip her head, her smile subsiding. Then she'd look back up at Mom and Dad, smiling again.

O'Bannon shifted in his chair, looking around the restaurant. Dozens of wizards and witches sat at tables covered with fine white linen, while the red carpet beneath them portrayed images unicorns frolicking in a lush meadow, hence the restaurant's name, The Dancing Unicorn. It was a rather upscale place, one he never expected to see the inside of. But since the Secretary of Magic made a lot more money than the average auror, Mr. Infante decided to splurge and treat them all, especially as Rosa had a rare weekend off from auror training. O'Bannon wondered if the expensive dinner might be a way of mending fences with Rosa.

One glance at his friend proved the mending process had a long way to go.

Rosa sat quietly next to him, staring at her fork.

He sighed. Merlin's beard, at least Rosa's parents made some effort to enjoy themselves.

He nudged her shoulder with the tip of his elbow. She jerked and whipped her head toward him.

"What?"

O'Bannon leaned closer to her, keeping his voice low. "What gives?"

"What'd you mean?"

He tilted his head and furrowed his brow in a knowing look. "Your dad brought us to one of the fanciest restaurants in Wizarding New England. Don't you think you should try to enjoy this a little bit?"

"I guess, but . . ."

"But what?"

Rosa let out a long sigh. "I just wish he was still here."

"Who?"

"Jared," she said quietly yet harshly, as though he ought to have known. Her eyes then darted toward her parents, as if hoping they didn't hear her mention her cousin's name. O'Bannon figured that, for the Infantes, Jared was still, "The-Nephew-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."

Rosa offered him an apologetic smile. "Sorry. It's just . . . I'm not used to him not being around. Okay, I know we haven't seen much of one another over the last few months because of auror training, but, I mean, I knew he was around. He wasn't that far away. But now . . . I mean Thailand? He might as well be on the Moon."

She slouched in her seat, her gaze falling to her lap. "We've always been together, for as long as I can remember. We always watched out for one another, depended on one another. I mean, he was just always there. And now, he's not."

The corners of Rosa's mouth crinkled. "I should be mad at him. Uncle Irving is . . . well, you know. And Jared just up and leaves? Runs out on his father when he needs him the most? I should be mad at him, but he's my best friend. More than my best friend."

O'Bannon flexed his jaw, wondering if he should say something or just let Rosa get all this off her chest.

She continued. "You know, it's times like this I wish I was back at Salem."

"As I remember, you couldn't wait to graduate so you could start auror training."

Rosa emitted a soft, sardonic laugh. "Goes to show you what I know. It's just . . . I miss _us. _You, me, Jared, Artimus. I miss all the good times, I miss knowing that if things got bad, I could always count on you three for support. Merlin's beard, I'd trust any one of you with my life. I just want that back."

"Yeah, I know." O'Bannon nodded. "There are times when I'm in my apartment, or I'm back home with Mom and Dad, and it just feels weird you guys aren't around. We spent seven years attached at the hip at Salem, then all those months in the Appalachians during the war. I guess I'm not used to being alone. To be honest, being alone sucks."

"I'll second that."

"Yeah, but you oughta be in better shape than me. I mean, you're around all those other auror trainees. You must hang out with some of them."

Rosa's lips twisted into a half-frown. "Yeah, right."

"What'd you mean? C'mon, you have to have some friends in your training class."

Rosa pressed her back into her chair. "I don't."

"What?"

A scowl flashed across Rosa's face. "Ever since I roughed up that dumbass trainee, everyone's avoided me like I was cursed."

O'Bannon sighed and closed his eyes halfway. He couldn't believe Rosa's classmates shunned her for that. Everyone at Salem had known she was one tough-ass chick, but she still had plenty of friends outside their little quartet.

"Not only that," she continued. "But, well, let's face it. When your father's Secretary of Magic and you mom runs the Aurors Bureau, people tend to draw their own conclusions on why you're there."

"Bullcrap." Anger flashed through him. "So what if your parents are two of the most powerful people in Wizarding America? You're in the auror program because you're a damn good witch, not because of your last name."

"Heh! Try telling that to the other trainees."

O'Bannon frowned, his eyes fixed on Rosa's sullen features. A harsh ripple went through his stomach. He couldn't believe someone as confident as Rosa could look so morose.

"So, Jimmy." Mrs. Infante's voice snapped him out of his reverie. "Your mother tells me you're planning a trip to England this summer."

"Huh? Oh yeah. We're gonna dedicate our old hockey pond to Fred."

"That's wonderful," Rosa's mother said warmly. "So how did that come about?"

"Well, when Harry and the Weasleys were here back in December for the medal ceremony, Ginny told me some of our old Triad teammates mentioned the idea to her. I mean, really, if it weren't for Fred and George wanting me to show them hockey, there never would have been a Triad. And Ginny said looking back on it, the Triad helped set the foundation for the D.A. And considering everything they did during VVoldemort's reign, it seemed only fitting we should dedicate the pond in his memory."

O'Bannon's neck muscles tightened. It didn't seem right to say, "In his memory," when talking about Fred.

_Why did you have to die, man? You . . . and Tonks . . . and Rana . . . and Mrs. Diaz . . . and Colin Creevey . . . and Dobby . . . and Mr. Lupin . . . and Cindy Walker . . . and Gregory Lancemore._

"I think that's a really nice gesture." Mr. Infante smiled. "I imagine you're looking forward to seeing all your friends in Britain again."

"Yeah. Yeah, I am." Out the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of Rosa, and winced. She clenched her fork tightly in her hand, her eyes narrowed. He had an idea what, or more precisely _who_, she was thinking about.

George.

O'Bannon bit down on his lower lip. Even months later he couldn't believe what happened between George and Rosa, how he just went off on her when she suggested they go back to her apartment. The outburst had reduced Rosa to tears, and he knew it took _a lot _just to get her to shed even a single tear.

He should hate George. Hell, he couldn't count how many times he'd wanted to go to England and ram his fist down George's throat. But then he'd think of what his friend must be going through, trying to deal with the loss of his twin brother, and sympathy would flood him.

_And what about sympathy for Rosa? I've known her way longer than George._

He shouldn't have to think these thoughts. He shouldn't have to choose between two best friends. If anything, Rosa and George should have had an awesome reunion. They should be exchanging love letters across the Atlantic.

And Fred should still be alive.

And Rosa's and Jared's family should be a close, loving family again.

And he should be with Mireet.

O'Bannon closed his eyes and tried to rid himself of that last thought.

Muffled _pops_ burst across the table. Mom jerked and gasped, then stared back down. A plate containing grilled halibut, corn on the cob and scalloped potatoes sat in front of her.

"I don't think I'll ever get used to food just _poofing _in front of me." She then looked down at the enchanted carpet. "Or a unicorn running under my feet."

"Oh come on, Ellen," Mrs. Infante said light-heartedly. "The unicorn carpet is reason alone for coming here."

The two women exchanged humorous smiles.

O'Bannon also smiled as he looked at his plate, which had a roast lamb. He closed his eyes and savored the tangy aroma. If this tasted as good as it smelled . . .

Euphoria exploded in his mouth at the first bite. He could see why this restaurant was so expensive. The food was awesome. Even better than, dare he say it, the meals Mrs. Weasley made during the Chupacabra Hunt.

He cut off another slice of lamb, raised it to his mouth . . . and froze.

"Oh my God."

Everyone at the table looked at him.

"What is it?" Dad asked.

O'Bannon nodded to the entrance to the dining area. "Check it out."

Everyone followed his gaze. Mr. Infante drew his head back in surprise. "Well, what do you know."

A round man with stern, angular features and thick white hair wearing fancy red and silver dress robes entered the dining area. On his arm was a slender blond with clear skin and a glowing smile.

O'Bannon's lips tightened as he continued to stare at Ulysses Rand.

"Who's the woman with him?" asked Mom. "That doesn't look like his wife."

"Oh, he divorced her just before the uprising," Mrs. Infante answered. "Looks like he traded up, or down if you're going by age. Merlin's beard, she can't be much older than Rosa."

"Whoa!" Rosa blurted. "I don't believe it. I thought I recognized her."

O'Bannon's turned to her. "You know her?"

"Yeah. That's Marla Karsberg. Remember her?"

He searched his memory. _Marla Karsberg. Marla Karsberg . . ._

"Wait a minute. Marla Karsberg. Didn't she used to play Chaser for Ardenturo Hall?"

"Yup. She was three years ahead of us. Merlin, she's Mister Rand's new squeeze?"

"It makes me wonder if he's lurking around Salem these days looking for young girls to marry when they become of age." Mrs. Infante scowled and shook her head. "Letch."

O'Bannon watched as Mr. Rand tipped a servant elf, who croaked, "This way, Sir. Madam."

Mr. Rand and Marla followed the little creature across restaurant, the image of a leaping unicorn beneath their feet. The skin around O'Bannon's nose crinkled when he noticed their path would take them right past their table.

Recognition flashed over Ulysses Rand's face as he stopped a few feet them. His look soured as his eyes swept over Mom and Dad, the Infantes, and finally, him and Rosa.

"Cesar . . . er, Mister Secretary." Mr. Rand didn't even try to hide the contempt in his voice. O'Bannon knew it had to grate on him to see Rosa's father as the leader of Wizarding America. Mr. Rand had always looked down his nose at the Infantes. Actually, he looked down his nose at all working-class wizards and witches. And now one of those working-class wizards was Secretary of Magic.

"Ulysses." Mr. Infante said in a flat tone.

The two men stared silently at each other for a couple seconds. Mr. Rand then turned to O'Bannon's parents, glowered at them, then turned that glower to O'Bannon himself. He didn't blink, matching the older wizard's harsh gaze.

"Hey, I know you guys," Marla said in a way-too-bubbly voice. "Jimmy O'Bannon and Rosa Infante, right? I saw some articles about you in _The All-Seeing Eye, _getting the Haldus Cross and stuff. I was actually at Salem around the same time you two were. You were on Blazerowe's hockey team, right?"

"Uh-huh." O'Bannon nodded. He hadn't known Marla personally at Salem, but after less than a minute in her presence he'd already had her personality nailed down.

Airhead.

_Then again, why would any witch with half-a-brain want to be with a jagoff like Ulysses Rand?_

Mr. Rand patted Marla's hand, which clutched his elbow, and flashed her a half-grin. "At least you played a _real sport_ at Salem, my dear."

Marla batted her eyes at Mr. Rand.

O'Bannon rolled his eyes. "Hockey _is_ a real sport."

Mr. Rand glowered at him again. He opened his mouth. O'Bannon folded his arms across his chest, wondering what sort of bullcrap would come out of the man's mouth.

But Mr. Rand said nothing. Even the anger lines in his face receded. He just stared quietly at O'Bannon. Then, his mouth closed, his shoulders drooped, and he stared down at the floor.

O'Bannon raised an eyebrow. What the hell could that be about?

He studied the wizard's body language. The sense of superiority that usually surrounded him like an aura faded. Mr. Rand actually appeared vulnerable. Even . . . hurt.

He held his breath. With him, Rosa and her parents here, could Mr. Rand be thinking about Hector?

O'Bannon had been through this plenty of times himself over the past year. He'd see something in _The All-Seeing Eye _sports page about the Boston Bandits and think of Rana. Or he'd pass a guy with red hair on the street and think of Fred. Hell, any number of things triggered memories of friends he'd lost during the war.

Why should Ulysses Rand be any different? The guy was an asshole, but he still lost a son. Even he had to feel that.

Mr. Rand resumed walking without another word, Marla right by his side, giving everyone a wide, beauty pageant-like smile.

O'Bannon clenched a fist. Should he do it? The man was a total SOB.

But Hector had been a good guy.

_Do it for his sake._

"Mister Rand." He stood up.

Mr. Rand stopped and turned to face him, a neutral expression on his face.

"Um . . . I just wanted to say I'm sorry about Hector. He was a good guy and I liked him a lot. We all did."

Silence hung between them for several seconds. The neutral look on Mr. Rand's face changed. His cheeks reddened and his eyes narrowed. He drew a long, slow breath before speaking.

"You're sorry. You're sorry? What right do you have to say that?"

O'Bannon tried to come up with a response, but his mind drew a blank.

Mr. Rand pulled away from Marla's hold and stepped closer to him. "I lost _two _sons because of you. First you corrupt Artimus with all sorts of garbage from your Muggle World and turn him against me, to the point he actually takes up with a Muggle. Then Hector . . ." His jaw trembled. "He went out to save your worthless hide. Why? Because you're Artimus' friend, and Hector would do anything for Artimus."

Mr. Rand's voice rose, to the point where the other wizards and witches in the restaurant looked their way. "So don't you dare stand here and give me your condolences. My son is dead because of you!"

O'Bannon's chest constricted. He couldn't move. He just stared into Mr. Rand's angry face with unblinking eyes. The man's words echoed in his head. "_My son is dead becau-"_

Mr. Rand's fist crashed into his face. Pain exploded across O'Bannon's mouth and left cheek. He stumbled back into the table.

Chaos erupted around him. Mom cried out. Dad roared, "Son-of-a-bitch!" and bolted out of his chair. Mr. Rand reached into his robes, probably for his wand. Rosa, however, had her wand pointed right at his face.

"Back off now! Mister O'Bannon, sit! I got this! What the hell is wrong with you, you psycho bastard!"

"Don't you dare speak to me like that! And get that damn wand out of my face!"

"One more word outta you and I'll make you ooze like a slug!"

O'Bannon pressed a hand to his throbbing mouth. The coppery taste of blood filled his mouth.

_Mister Rand hit me. Artimus' dad just hit me._ He was still trying to accept that reality when Mrs. Infante stomped around the table and up to Mr. Rand.

"This is beyond the pale even for you, Ulysses. Punching a wizard for no reason!?"

"No reason?" Mr. Rand stabbed a finger toward him. "_He's _the reason Hector's dead!"

A dark, cold sensation pierced O'Bannon's insides. His eyes locked on Mr. Rand's face, which switched between rage and angst every few seconds.

A feeling flickered through him, one he never in his life expected to have for Ulysses Rand.

Sympathy.

"Hector was killed by Death Eaters, not Jimmy!" Anger blazed across Mrs. Infante's face. "And I don't care how rich you are, you're not going to get away with assaulting a wizard."

A wicked smile crossed Rosa's lips as she continued to cover Mr. Rand with her wand. Marla stood off to the side, mouth agape.

"Ulysses Rand," Mrs. Infante said firmly. "I'm placing you under arrest."

O'Bannon expected Artimus' father to launch into a tirade of righteous indignation. Instead he lowered his head and muttered, "My son."

"Place your hands in front of you."

Several seconds passed before Mr. Rand complied. Mrs. Infante pointed her wand at his wrists.

"Wait."

Both Rosa and her mother whipped their heads toward him, shock plastered on their faces.

"What?" Rosa blurted.

"Just forget about, okay? It's no big."

"Jimmy." Mom's eyes bulged behind her glasses. "That bastard hit you! You can't just -"

"I said forget about it, okay? Just forget about it." He looked to Mrs. Infante, pleading silently with her.

She sighed loudly and looked back at Mr. Rand with a scowl. "Consider yourself very, _very _lucky tonight, Ulysses. Now take your future ex-wife and get out of my sight."

Marla scrunched her face in displeasure. Mrs. Infante ignored it.

Without a "thank you," or any other word, Mr. Rand took Marla by the hand and stalked out of the restaurant.

"Are you okay, Jimmy?" Mom grabbed his shoulders and carefully studied his face. "I can't believe he did that. Oh my God, you're bleeding." She snatched a cloth napkin off the table, dabbed it in a water goblet, and tried to press it against his mouth.

"Mom, stop." He twisted his head away. I'm fine."

"Jimmy, will you just let me -"

"I said I'm fine, Mom! Leave me alone, all right?"

He spun away from her, stormed away from the table, and stormed outside, nearly bumping into an elderly wizarding couple.

"Watch where you're going, young man," the wizard snapped.

"Bite me!" He didn't even look at the guy, just kept walking into the middle of the dirt street. He pressed his hands against the back of his skull, thinking of Mr. Rand's accusations, thinking of those flickers of sorrow on his face.

"Jimmy!"

He turned and snorted. Rosa strode up to him.

"What the hell was that all about? That son-of-a-bitch hits you and you let him walk?"

"I have my reasons."

"What could they possibly be? Merlin's beard, you had the chance to put Ulysses Rand in his place and you back off?"

"What if he's right?"

Rosa's jaw slowly fell open. "You can't possibly believe that."

"Hector was involved in most of our missions before the uprising. You have to believe a big reason for that was to keep an eye on Artimus. If he hadn't gone with you and Jared and Art when I called for help that day he wouldn't have died."

"Dammit, Jimmy. Hector didn't die because of you. He died because he was fighting a war. He knew the risks. We all did."

"But he went to the YWW-Triple-A because of me, because he knew Artimus would go there, too. And what about Helghorst Island?"

A quizzical look settled over Rosa's face. "What about it?"

"Your father put me in charge of that formation with our old classmates. How many of them died? Gregory, Eli, Beatrice . . ."

"It was a battle, Jimmy. Did you really think we wouldn't lose anyone when we attacked that island?"

"I was their leader!" He poked his chest with a finger. "Leaders are responsible for the people under them. They died under my command. And look at all the stuff that happened to you guys on missions I led."

"What are you talking about?"

"You and Jared and Artimus could have ended up in Azkaban, or been ripped apart by Chupacabra, or killed by Death Eaters. Look at all the danger I put you in after I came back from Hogwarts. I came to you three and asked if you'd join the opposition against Lord VVVoldemort. I didn't have a damn clue back then what we'd be getting and if I did . . ."

He shook his head and turned away. "I dragged you into this. All the crap you went through during the war was my fault. You guys are my best friends in the whole world, and I almost got you all killed. Maybe . . . maybe you and Jared and Artimus would have been better off if you never met me."

A hand clamped around his forearm and spun him around. Had he not known Rosa for so long, he would have been surprised by the girl's strength.

"Don't you dare say that." She shook with anger. "Meeting you was one of the best things that ever happened to me. I love you like a brother, dammit!"

"But I almost got all of you killed."

"We knew the risks. We could have said no. But we cared about you, and you cared about us, and we were going to stick by you no matter what, because that's what real friends do."

Rosa drew a breath to calm herself. "Now, why don't you stop the pity party, come back inside with me, and let's try to have a nice dinner."  
O'Bannon sighed. "To be honest, I'm not really hungry. I think . . . I think I need to take a walk."

He turned away from Rosa and started down the street.

"Jimmy!"

"Tell my parents I'll meet 'em at home later," he called out over his shoulder. He watched Rosa for a few seconds, and, convinced she wasn't going to follow him, faced forward and kept walking.

He wandered Milmothryn Market, the dirt roads and colonial-style storefronts lit up by old-fashioned gas lamps. Even though it was night, several witches and wizards still strolled up and down the brick walkways. O'Bannon caught a couple amazed whispers.

"Merlin's beard, is that Jimmy O'Bannon?"

"A Haldus Cross and an Order of Merlin. Talk about a hero."

One couple in their forties even stopped him and asked for his autograph. He begrudgingly gave it to them.

He had no idea how long he'd been wandering the Market when he came across a storefront with a giant wooden hand clutching a wand sticking out over the doorway. O'Bannon slowed to a halt and gazed at Australius' Wand Shop.

His mind snapped him back ten years ago. _My God, has it already been ten years?_ He remembered how friendly Mr. Australius had been, how scared he'd been when he accidentally set the counter on fire with the first wand he used.

How that shop was where he'd met Rosa for the first time.

A grin flickered across his lips as he plunged into the memories of that day. How new and exciting everything was, from photographs that moved to multiple flavors of ice cream created by the tap of a wand. He'd met really cool people, like Rosa and Jared and their family. And, well, my God he was an actual wizard! At the time, he felt like the luckiest kid in the world.

Nobody told him he would have to fight a war.

Nobody told him he would have to grieve over best friends and women he'd been intimate with.

O'Bannon snorted and stared at his shoes. It was almost a year since the war ended, and things just didn't seem normal, didn't seem right. Shouldn't everything be better with the war over?

More memories popped into his mind, memories from that day at Mount Ida College. He remembered all the Muggle students around him talking about things like parties and homework and plain old idle gossip. He doubted any of them had to deal with nightmares that made them wake up in a cold sweat, or mourn over dead girlfriends, or lead friends into battle and watch them die.

No, everything was fine with them. Life was awesome, with handing in homework and passing tests the biggest concerns.

O'Bannon pictured himself living that sort of life. He also pictured himself playing for the college's hockey team. How could he not? Girlfriend? Maybe he and Yuki Tamazaki would be dating. She did seem pretty cool that one night they spent together.

A nice, normal life, free of war and loss and pain. That's what he would have had if Headmistress Esmeralda had never visited him that day ten years ago.

_And you never would have met Jared and Rosa and Artimus and Fred and George and Tonks and everyone else. _

Would he pay that price? Would he trade all those close, wonderful friends, some of whom he thought of as brothers or sisters, for a normal Muggle life?

Right now, he couldn't decide one way or the other.

_**TO BE CONTINUED**_


	38. Escape Plan

**CHAPTER 38: ESCAPE PLAN**

* * *

"I'm through playing games! Either help Holly, or I'll do the Cruciatus on your daughter!"

O'Bannon gripped the back of the little girl's nightdress, his wand inches from her head. His eyes locked on the frightened form of her father.

"For Merlin's sake!" Healer Bronski cried out. "She's just a little girl!"

"You think I'm joking? You've got to the count of five! One!"

"Please, I'm begging you!' Bronski appeared ready to fall to his knees.

O'Bannon counted to two . . . three . . . four.

_Can I really do this?_

He glanced over at Holly. A shiver went through him when he noticed how pale she'd become. How much longer did she have?

"Five!"

Bronski still refused to help Holly.

O'Bannon closed his eyes. _I can't let her die._

"_Crucio!"_

The healer's young daughter screamed in agony and writhed in his grip.

O'Bannon bolted upright. He gasped, his entire body shaking. His head snapped back and forth. It was dark, too dark to see a thing. Where was he?

He felt something soft under him. He took a couple more deep breaths before he realized . . .

_I'm in bed._

His breathing settled down, as did his heartbeat. He leaned against the headboard, grimacing at the cold sweat that drenched his pajamas and skin.

_It was just a dream. Just a dream._

No. He couldn't call that a dream. That was a nightmare. Another damn one. He hadn't used a Torture Curse on Healer Bronski's daughter in the real world, but in the dream . . .

O'Bannon drew his legs to his chest, still shivering, and closed his eyes. The little girl's screams echoed in his brain.

_It was just a dream. You didn't really do that._

A new thought crossed his mind. The little girl he'd threatened . . . _pretended _to threaten, Olivia. Did she have nightmares from that night? Did she wake up screaming? What about her parents? Had he traumatized them as well?

_I just wanted to help Holly. I would never have hurt them._

_Do you think they know that?_

O'Bannon threw the blankets off him and padded to the bathroom. He peeled off his sweat-soaked pajamas and took a long shower. When he finished, and laid back down in bed, he just stared up at the ceiling. He knew he'd never fall back to sleep. Instead he relived that night the setagotha attacked and injured Holly. He couldn't remember ever being so scared in his life as when he thought that little seven-year-old girl would die.

And he never felt so disgusted with himself as when he threatened Healer Bronski's daughter with a Cruciatus Curse.

_But I would never have actually used it._

That didn't make him feel any better.

He remained awake as the sun began to rise. Eyes burning, he dragged himself out of bed and began his morning exercises. Every push-up and sit-up and jumping jack required effort. He felt lethargic during his entire morning run.

And his brain bombarded him with images of the nightmare, and images of what really happened in that healer's house in Filfylum over a year-and-a-half ago. Then he thought about the medal ceremony in December. A Haldus Cross and an Order of Merlin for a guy who threatened a little girl. If he had any decency, he'd give the damn medals back. Actually, he was surprised Bronski and his family hadn't come forward and told the world what he'd done that night. Even a tiny wizarding community like Filfylum had to get _The All-Seeing Eye _or the Wizard Broadcast Network. They would have heard all about the "heroic" tales of Jimmy O'Bannon. You'd think they'd say something about how he threatened little Olivia. Part of him wished they would, just so the world could finally know the truth.

O'Bannon slowed up and came to a halt, slumping against a street lamp. He took deep breaths and gazed around him. The store fronts and apartments on this stretch of Haypippil Square momentarily vanished, replaced by images from his mind's eye. Him yelling about using a Cruciatus Curse. Olivia crying. Her parents pleading with him.

_I wouldn't have done it. I swear I wouldn't have done it._

He wished he could make the Bronskis understand that.

_Why can't I?_ He straightened up, working his jaw back and forth. Would they believe him? Hell, they might call the Aurors Bureau the moment he showed up at their doorstep.

He shook his head. He had to do this. Even if Bronski and his wife yelled and screamed at him, or even hexed him, he had to do it. Hell, after what he had done, he deserved to be hexed.

O'Bannon headed back to his apartment, showered again, and wrote a note to his boss, Mr. Tubberwall, saying he was sick and wouldn't be coming into work at the YWWAAA today. He stuck the parchment in an envelope and gave it to his new owl, Nomar, named after the Boston Red Sox All-Star shortstop Nomar Garciaparra. Minutes after the brown and white Northern Hawk Owl flew off, O'Bannon went outside and Apparated.

A cluster of log cabins greeted him. His stomach lurched as memories of that night overwhelmed him. Paralysis gripped his legs. He wanted to Apparate right back the Washington. How could he face that family after what he had done to their daughter?

_Be a man, dammit._

He proceeded down the dirt road, passing a few wizards and witches along the way. Some gave him curious looks. He figured this little town didn't get many visitors. Or maybe they recognized him as "The Famous Jimmy O'Bannon."

He groaned at the thought as he neared the healer's house. His pace slowed and his heart hammered against his chest. Icy needles of dread pierced every inch of his body.

_C'mon, man. Gryffindor up and do it._

Fists clenched, and took a deep breath and walked the rest of the way to Healer Bronski's house. After a moment's hesitation, he knocked on the door.

He stiffened when the door opened.

"Yes? Can I help you?"

O'Bannon's brow furrowed. A portly witch in her late twenties with her brown hair tied in a bun greeted him.

"Um, hi. This is the town healer's place, right?"

"Yes, that's right." She flashed him a smile. "I'm Healer McGregor."

His face twisted in puzzlement. "McGregor? But, what happened to Healer Bronski?"

"Oh." McGregor's gaze fell to the floor. Her shoulders slumped.

"Is something wrong?" O'Bannon asked.

She looked back up at him and sighed. "I'm sorry, but Healer Bronski's dead."

His chest tightened. His legs turned to jelly. It took all his concentration to remain standing. "What? He's . . . He's dead?"

"I'm afraid so."

O'Bannon's mouth hung open silently for several seconds. "H-How? When?"

"It was during the war. I wasn't around then, but some of the townsfolk filled me in when I got here. Apparently, the Death Eaters learned he'd been helping wizards and witches opposed to Lord Voldemort. So they came here and killed him and his family." A crest-fallen look came over McGregor's face. "I heard he had a little girl. Seven-years-old, I think. What kind of monsters would hurt a little girl?"

O'Bannon's head spun. He took a couple steps back, nearly falling. Bronski dead? His whole family dead? No. No way could that be true.

"_Helping wizards and witches opposed to Lord Voldemort."_

A hot blade twisted in his stomach. His breathing shortened. _Oh my God. Oh my God. She means . . . me._

_I killed them. Oh, God forgive me, I killed them._

"Are you all right?"

He turned away from Healer McGregor, tears blurring his vision. He walked with unsteady steps, ignoring her questions of concern. He bit his tongue, wanting to scream that he wasn't okay, but he didn't trust his voice.

_I just wanted to help Holly. I never meant for them to die._

He wandered Filfylum aimlessly, guilt eating away at him. The question racked his mind. Was one little girl's life worth that of an entire family?

_I can't answer that. I don't want to answer it._

He stopped when a carved wooden sign over the door of a three story log cabin caught his eye. GRESCAMP'S TAVERN. Face tightening, he marched up to the door and pushed it open.

About a dozen witches and wizards were inside. All of them looked up when he walked in. O'Bannon ignored their stares and, in some cases, stunned whispers, and plopped into the first empty seat he saw. A middle-aged yet buxom witch with long, curly brown hair sidled up to his table.

"Hi there, hon. Hey! Aren't you Jimmy O'Bannon? I read about you in _The All-Seeing Eye._ The Wizarding World is certainly blessed to have someone like you. You're a real hero."

O'Bannon scowled at her.

The witch took a step back, shock plastered on her face. "Um, so, can I get you anything?"

"Yeah. Any kind of ale you have. And keep it coming."

"Isn't it a little early to be drinking?"

"Yeah. So?"

The witch bit her lower lip for a moment. "Okay then. Ale it is."

A couple minutes later the witch returned with a frothy mug. O'Bannon drank it down, and kept on drinking until the pain went away.

**XXXXX**

O'Bannon skated along the edge of the ice inside one of the gymnasiums at the YWWAAA, keeping an eye on the kids as they entered the neutral zone. Crea Cardwell passed to Willie Zobrist, who then passed it on to Brendan Heinz. A quick smile crossed O'Bannon's lips. Those were good, crisp passes. Damn, but those three had improved so much since they first started taking his hockey class. Whatever rust they had since coming back from the Appalachians had long since vanished.

Scenes flashed through his mind's eye. Darkened woods. A setagotha leaping into their encampment. Crea, Willie, Brendan and the other children running and screaming. And Holly. A chill went up his spine as he recalled Holly lying unconscious before him.

His pace slowed as he thought of Olivia Bronski, how she cried as he threatened her with a Cruciatus Curse.

_They killed her. The Death Eaters killed her and her entire family. All because of me._

Cheers echoed through the gym. He blinked and noticed Crea, Willie, Brendan and their two teammates grouped around the net, hugging one another.

_They scored?_

"Excuse me, Coach Jimmy?"

"Huh? What?" He shook his head, trying to regain his senses. That's when he noticed Jillian Cubbage in front of him.

"Um, I think Willie was offsides. Didn't he cross the blue line before Crea gave him the puck?"

"What? Oh. Oh, um. I guess . . . I'm sorry, I must not have seen it."

Jillian tilted her head, her face scrunched up. "Are you okay, Coach Jimmy?"

He swallowed. Anger flickered inside him, anger at himself for that lapse in concentration.

_Get it together, O'Bannon._

The war may be over, but these kids still saw him as their leader. That meant he had to act like everything was under control.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine, Jillian. Let's go, everyone. Back to center ice."

O'Bannon led both teams to the center face-off circle, trying to push the memories of that night out of his mind, to focus on the task at hand. To not look weak in front of these kids, especially the ones who'd been with him in the Appalachians.

_I'm okay. I'm okay. I'm strong. Just gotta stay focused._

Once at center ice, he skated up to the two opposing forwards, both of whom had their sticks hovering just above the ice. He held the puck between both players, took quick glances at them, and –

"O'Bannon!"

He whipped around toward the door. A frown formed on his face when he noticed the tall, skinny wizard with glasses and receding brown hair standing in the doorway.

"Yeah?" He didn't even try to keep the annoyance out of his voice when he replied to Julius Gumwibben, the YWWAAA's Director of Special Sporting Programs.

"What are you still doing here?"

"Playing hockey. What does it look like?" _You moron._ He was so tempted to add those words. It grated on his nerves to still have this wanker as his supervisor. Every time he saw him, he thought back to the day the Death Eaters attacked this building, and how Gumwibben cowered under his desk when O'Bannon asked for his help.

_Some leader._

Frustration settled over Gumwibben's face. "Don't you know we have a Junior Gobstones tournament scheduled in here a half-hour from know? You should know it as the schedule for use of this gymnasium is posted in your office."

"We've got a couple more minutes left in the period, then we'll be done."

"I need to get this gymnasium ready now! Now melt this ice, pack up your gear and go!"

O'Bannon's face twisted in anger. Where the hell did this friggin' coward get off yelling at him?

He skated away from the children, picking up speed as he crossed the blue line. When he neared the edge of the ice, he made a sharp turn and stopped, throwing up a cloud of ice particles. Gumwibben jumped back into the hallway as the mini ice storm washed over the floor.

"I said we'll be done in a couple minutes. Okay?"

He turned around and skated back to the kids without waiting for Gumwibben's reply. Crea and Willie stared at him with shocked expressions when he got back to center ice.

"Cool," he heard Brendan utter.

"Okay, guys. C'mon. Face-off time. Let's go."

O'Bannon stood at center ice, puck in hand. He looked back at the doorway. No sign of Gumwibben. He shook his head. How the hell did a guy with no balls like him get into a position of leadership?

Five minutes later, the game ended. O'Bannon melted the ice and evaporated the resulting water with his wand, collected the equipment and bid the kids farewell. When he got back to his office, he found a note on his desk.

_Jimmy,_

_My office. Now._

_Mr. Tubberwall._

"What now?" he groaned. Crumpling the letter and chucking it in his Boston Celtics trash can, he headed upstairs to the director's office. When he reached it, he knocked on the door.

"Come in," Tubberwall said.

O'Bannon opened the door and strode inside. "You wanted to see me, Mister Tubberwall?"

The tall, muscular wizard looked up at him from his desk. "Close the door," he said curtly. "Sit."

He did as instructed.

Tubberwall stared at him, unsmiling. "Mister Gumwibben came to see me a few minutes ago."

O'Bannon scowled. It didn't surprise him that his supervisor would whine to Mr. Tubberwall. God forbid the man actually handled something on his own.

"He says you threatened him," Tubberwall continued.

His head drew back in shock. Then, he gave a snorting laugh. "I threatened him? Well he's full of crap."

Tubberwall's eyes narrowed. "Gumwibben says you yelled at him, then sent a shower of ice at him."

O'Bannon shrugged. "Hey, as far as the ice shower goes, I was just coming to a stop. I guess I was going a bit faster than I thought. And as for the yelling . . . Heh! I barely raised my voice at him."

"You aren't supposed to raise your voice to him at all, Jimmy. Julius Gumwibben is your immediate supervisor, and you have to treat him with respect."

"Respect?" O'Bannon slid to the edge of his seat. "You want me to treat him with respect? A guy who hid under his desk while the Death Eaters were blowing this building apart?"

"Do you think he was the only one hiding from the Death Eaters that day? I'm sorry to inform you of this, Jimmy, but not everyone at the YWW-Triple-A is a war hero like you."

"This has nothing to do with being a 'war hero.'" He used both middle and index fingers to form quotation marks. "Gumwibben is a supervisor, a leader. A person in a position of responsibility. And he had a responsibility to protect the people under him. But what did he do instead? He locked himself in his office and blubbered away while his co-workers were being slaughtered."

"Do you really think Gumwibben is capable of fighting Death Eaters?"

"He could have at least levitated the wounded to safety. Or get people out of the building. Something. Anything! But he didn't do a damn thing, except maybe go through a couple boxes of tissues. And you want me to give a wussbag like that my respect?"

"As long as he is your supervisor, that's _exactly_ what you're going to do." Tubberwall stabbed a finger at him. "This isn't the first time you've been disrespectful toward Gumwibben. I've cut you some slack because of what you did for this country during the war. But getting a Haldus Cross and an Order of Merlin does not entitle you to be insubordinate. You may not like Mister Gumwibben. In fact, I don't really care if you personally like him or not. But you _will_ give him the respect he deserves as your supervisor."

"You gotta be kidding me."

"I am not kidding!" Tubberwall slammed his palm on his desk. "This behavior of yours ends here and now! If I hear one more complaint from Gumwibben about you, I don't care how famous you are, you're done here."

Anger lines dug into O'Bannon's face. He clenched the armrests of his chair, glaring at Tubberwall.

"Now get out of here." His boss lowered his head, staring at some piece of parchment on his desk.

O'Bannon continued glowering at Tubberwall, his shoulders rising and falling in slow, angry breaths. After a few seconds, he pushed himself out of the chair, stomped over to the door, yanked it open, and slammed it shut behind him.

"Son-of-a-bitch!" He growled through clenched teeth. This couldn't be possible. He had to show respect to Gumwibben? Show respect to that coward? After being around people like Jared, Rosa, Artimus, Fred, George and Tonks, seeing what they did during the war, how could he give even a shred of respect to Gumwibben? Hell, even a little house elf named Dobby had courage enough to fight Voldemort's forces.

He shut his eyes tight. The faces of Tonks, Fred, Dobby, Lupin, Mrs. Diaz, Rana and so many others floated past his mind's eye. How dare Mr. Tubberwall demand he give his respect to a speck of fly crap like Gumwibben when those people sacrificed their lives to end Voldemort's reign of murder and tyranny?

O'Bannon stomped inside his small office and slammed the door shut. With a roar, he kicked his trash can across the room. It crashed against the wall, scraps of parchment fluttering to the floor. He leaned over his desk and pounded it until his fists throbbed with pain.

O'Bannon placed his palms flat on the desk. Sharp breaths shot out his nose. He stared back up, his eyes scanning several of the framed, moving photographs on his desk, many of which had been tipped over by his pounding. There was the Triad team picture. Another photo showed him, Rosa, Jared and Artimus at their graduation from Salem. Another was of him and Mireet at the Yule Ball. Yet another featured him and his parents in the middle of the Diaz/Infante Clan during a Christmas get together.

He collapsed in his chair, planted his elbows on the desk, and buried his face in his hands. All that stuff didn't even feel like it had really happened. The Triad, the Yule Ball, graduation, visiting the Infantes' and the Diazes' homes. It felt like he'd conjured them all up in some fantasy. In the here and now, the Infantes and the Diazes were a mess. The relationship he'd long desired with Mireet never came about, and never would, and the Triad . . .

O'Bannon stared at a drawing he'd stuck to the wall above his desk, a jet black marble monument with a photo of a redheaded young man in a hockey jersey, holding a stick.

Fred Weasley's monument, as designed by his fellow Gryffindor and former Triad teammate Dean Thomas.

He sighed. In two months he'd be back in England, back at Hogwarts, for the dedication of Fred's monument.

_I can't believe that's how I'm returning to England._ O'Bannon couldn't count how many nights in the Appalachians he'd dreamt of returning to England. Usually he was at the Weasley's house, or the Three Broomsticks in Hogsmeade, sharing drinks and stories and laughs with his British friends.

How the hell would he be able to do that for real? How could he talk about pranks and late-night forays to the kitchens and the Triad/Slytherin game when everyone would be thinking about how Fred shouldn't be dead?

_This world is totally messed up._

O'Bannon sat at his desk for the next hour, not doing a damn lick of work. When 4:30 rolled around he left his office and headed for the exit, ignoring the "good-byes" from several of his co-workers. Instead of Apparating directly home, he went to a tavern in Haypippil Square around the corner from his apartment. He sat at the bar and ordered an ale . . . then another one. By the time he halfway finished his third ale the frustration of today had ebbed, somewhat.

He needed to get away from this world for a bit. Maybe go to his parents' this weekend. No, he couldn't do that. The YWWAAA had sign-up and demonstration events for its summer programs Saturday and Sunday, and he had to be there on both days.

_Crap._ He didn't want to wait another week to go to his parents', wander the Muggle World, and leave behind all the crap of Wizarding World.

As he raised the mug to his lips, he remembered something. The first round of the NHL's Stanley Cup Playoffs had began, and the Boston Bruins were facing the Washington Capitals. One of those games had to be taking place in Washington sometime this week. Maybe he could get a ticket to it. He briefly considered inviting Rosa and Artimus and Mireet, but no. He didn't want any reminders of the Wizarding World around him. Besides, Rosa had auror training, Artimus would probably be doing something with Jenna, and Mireet . . .

_Yeah, well . . ._

O'Bannon finished his ale and walked back to his apartment. When he got inside, he strode over to his desk and used the charm to make his computer work in the Wizarding World. He then logged on to the Boston Bruins web site to find out when they'd be in Washington for the playoffs. It would mean having to cheer for his team in enemy territory, but after attacking Helghorst Island, he could handle 15,000 crazed Caps fans.

When the site finished downloading, he scanned it for the schedule icon.

That's when something else caught his eye.

O'Bannon leaned closer and read the advertisement.

DO YOU HAVE WHAT IT TAKES TO BE A BRUIN?

THE BOSTON BRUINS WILL HOLD AN OPEN TRYOUT JUNE 29TH, 9 a.m. TO 3 p.m. AT THE FLEET CENTER.

EVALUATIONS CONDUCTED BY . . .

MIKE SULLIVAN, HEAD COACH, AHL'S PROVIDENCE BRUINS

EVAN LETREN, BRUINS ASST. DIRECTOR OF SCOUTING

FORMER BRUINS BRIAN CURRAN (DEF); CRAIG JANNEY (CTR); PETE PEETERS (G)

SERIOUS HOCKEY PLAYERS ONLY.

"No way." A smile grew on his face. Open tryouts. That meant anyone could show up.

He leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling, imagining himself in a black and gold Bruins uniform. Seventeen thousand fans packing The Fleet Center and cheering for him as he fired a puck past some top-notch goalie like Martin Brodeur or Patrick Roy.

Reality set in. Even if he did well at the tryout, he doubted they'd immediately put him on the Bruins roster. More likely they'd send him to some minor league team and see if he could work his way up to the big club.

_So? I'd still be playing pro hockey. How many people actually get to do that?_

O'Bannon gazed at the advertisement. My God, he had an actual chance of doing something he'd dreamed of since he was about five. He could really become a professional hockey player. He would be working someplace where he didn't have to give his respect to a coward. Nobody would call him a war hero. He wouldn't have to watch the family of his two best friends deteriorate further. He'd be in a world that didn't have constant reminders of dead friends and girlfriends and families he'd forced to help him. Maybe he could even stop thinking about a certain French witch he could never have.

Most importantly, he could actually have a normal life.

He drew a long breath and clicked on the advertisement for the open tryouts.

_I think I just found my ticket out of here._

_**TO BE CONTINUED**_


	39. A Painful Reunion

**CHAPTER 39: A PAINFUL REUNION**

* * *

O'Bannon's stomach churned as he stood on a hill overlooking Manassas, Virginia. He took deep breaths, trying to settle his rapidly beating heart as his gaze shifted between his watch and a blender lying in the grass. He both anticipated and dreaded Mireet's arrival.

He sighed and closed his eyes. It didn't used to be this way. Oh sure, he'd been nervous around of her plenty of times. The usual anxiety any man had around a woman he'd fallen for. Worried he'd say something wrong, scared she wouldn't feel the same about him.

Now the feelings were different. Every time he saw Mireet, regret consumed him. As did guilt. Guilt that he had gone to bed with a girl he hadn't seen since elementary school instead of the girl who had put her life at risk countless times for him.

He also noticed a change in Mireet's demeanor around him. At first he chalked it up to his paranoid imagination. But the more times he saw her, the more he became convinced the French witch did relay a message with her eyes and facial expressions.

_Why hasn't anything happened between us?_

He chewed on his lower lip and stared at his shoes.

_Crack!_

He turned around and saw Mireet standing a few feet away, dressed in thin silver and red robes, strands of her long blond hair blowing in the summer breeze.

My God, she looked so beautiful.

_Stop torturing yourself._

"Hello, Jimmy." Mireet walked up to him and kissed him on both cheeks. His chest tightened. He remembered those kisses being more enthusiastic. Now she seemed to do it matter-of-factly. And her smile. It used to be so much brighter.

Did she even want to be around him any more?

O'Bannon sighed to himself. This was just further proof he had made the right decision about his future.

"So," he said. "Um, you ready?"

"_Oui."_ Mireet nodded.

They grabbed their bags and knelt beside the blender. O'Bannon held his breath. A surge of energy shot through his arm from the blender, in reality a port key. He closed his eyes as an invisible force yanked him forward. He gritted his teeth, fearing the skin would be ripped from his bones.

Suddenly it was over. He opened his eyes and found himself standing on another hill with Mireet.

_Let's see if we're in the right . . ._

O'Bannon found it before he could complete the thought. His eyes fixed on a crocked structure several stories high topped by a red roof and multiple chimneys.

"That is Fred, George and Ginny's home?" Mireet also stared at the house.

"Yup. That's The Burrow."

He continued gazing at the Weasleys' home, trying to be happy. He was back in England, after all. He should be happy.

Unfortunately, he found it hard to be happy given the reason for his return.

"Do you think Artimus and Jenna are already here?" Mireet wondered as they started down the hill.

"They should be. Art said they were due to land at Heathrow this morning." After hearing about port keys, Jenna decided she wanted absolutely nothing to do with that mode of travel and insisted on flying to England. O'Bannon couldn't blame her. Port key travel could be disconcerting even for experienced wizards and witches, nevermind Muggles.

They reached the bottom of the hill and walked along a dirt path leading to The Burrow. Tendrils of anxiety wrapped around him as he got closer to the house. What sort of atmosphere would he find inside there? Fred had been dead over a year now, but how could anyone completely get over the death of a son, a brother, a twin!

_A best friend._

His pace slowed. Would he walk in there and find Mrs. Weasley crying? Mr. Weasley reduced to a shell of a man, like Jared's father? And George . . .

They just passed the chicken coop when the front door flew open, and a short, plump, redheaded woman appeared.

"I thought that was you. Welcome back, Jimmy. It's so good to see you again. And you too, Mireet."

Mrs. Weasley threw her arms around him in a crushing hug.

"Hi, Mrs. Weasley. Good to see you, again." O'Bannon hugged her back. She sounded pretty cheerful. He took that as a good sign.

Then Mrs. Weasley pulled away, and he looked into her eyes. He swallowed when he saw it. The pain in those hazel orbs. Pain etched so deeply he doubted it would ever go away.

His chest tightened. Could people really live the rest of their lives with that sort of pain? He was only twenty. Would all the pain he carried around now be there at age thirty? Forty? Fifty? Beyond?

_If you stay here, then probably._

After hugging Mireet, Mrs. Weasley waved them forward. "Well, come on then. Come inside and relax. Port key certainly isn't the easiest way to travel. And I'm sure you must be hungry. There's still some leftover sandwiches from lunch."

Just before they reached the front door, Mrs. Weasley looked over her shoulder at them. "I'm sorry to hear Jared and . . . and Rosa couldn't make it."

"Yeah, they send their regrets," O'Bannon replied. "But with Jared on that dig in Thailand and Rosa . . . um, well, she's getting close to the end of auror training, so it's kind of tough for them to get away."

"Mm." Mrs. Weasley nodded, her gaze dropping to the ground momentarily.

He sighed to himself, wondering if Mrs. Weasley felt the reason for Rosa's not being here was a half-truth. Certainly the final stages of auror training kept her busy, but after what happened between her and George at the medal ceremony . . .

He wondered what Mrs. Weasley thought of that blow-up. Did she excuse George's behavior because of Fred's death? Then again, Mrs. Weasley didn't seem the type to condone that sort of thing from any of her sons. Plus she had approved of George and Rosa being together, much more so than she had her oldest son, Bill, and former Tri-Wizard Champion Fleur Delacour at the time.

A rush of people greeted them when they walked through the door. Mr. Weasley, Ginny, Harry, Hermione, Artimus and Jenna.

"George and Ron are still at the shop," Mrs. Weasley announced. "But they should be home by supper. Oh, Ginny. Show Jimmy and Mireet where they'll be staying. Tut, tut! Hands off those bags, you two. Ginny can levitate them for you."

Ginny cast a Levitation Charm on their bags, which floated behind them as they headed toward the winding staircase.

"Hey, Jimmy." Jenna hurried over to him.

"Yeah, what's up?"

"Well, Art said you've known these folks a lot longer than he has, and . . . well, I'm just curious." Jenna checked over her shoulder before continuing. "Is Mister Weasley always so . . . er, passionate about Muggle stuff?"

O'Bannon couldn't help but smile. "Ah, so he's been grilling you, huh?"

"Yeah. For, like, the last hour."

"An hour? Oh, he's just gettin' warmed up."

Jenna grimaced as they started up the stairs. "But it's all about uninteresting stuff like batteries and pencil sharpeners. He even asked me how a light bulb works."

"That's nothing." He patted her shoulder. "Wait till he gets goin' about airplanes."

Jenna let out a long sigh and rolled her eyes. "Oh yeah." She checked behind her again, and spoke softly. "And that Hermione. What's up with her?"

"Um, you gotta be a little more specific."

"Well, how about the fact I had to sit through a lecture with her on the history of Wizarding England, which then turned into comparing and contrasting this country and Wizarding America."

"Yeah, Hermione's – what's the word I'm looking for? Oh yeah – fanatical about sharing everything she knows with the rest of the world, whether they want it or not."

Jenna shook her head. "I swear, I thought I was back in high school."

"Yeah, well it's better than having to listen to Mister Binns."

"Who?"

"He was my History of Magic teacher when I went to Hogwarts. Actually, he was a ghost."

"A ghost?" Jenna's eyes widened. "You really had a ghost for a teacher?"

"Yup."

Jenna visibly shivered and rubbed her hands up and down her arms. Well, she wouldn't be the first relative of a Muggle-born skittish about ghosts. His own mother let out a gasp of fright when the ghost of Priscilla Primrose greeted her on graduation day at Salem.

"How . . . I mean, how did you deal with it?"

O'Bannon shrugged. "Mostly I just slept through class."

"What?"

Again, he shrugged. "The guy was boring as hell. And for some reason, he was obsessed with Goblin Rebellions."

Jenna hugged herself. "That's one part of this world I don't think I'll ever get used to. Ghosts are real. And Samantha told me there are some at Fantimoor."

"Speaking of which, where is baby sister?"

"Oh, she's staying with the family of a friend of hers from school. I got a letter from her a couple days ago. She's absolutely loving it there. Rambled on about all the stuff they do there with magic. You know she stood in the kitchen for half-an-hour watching the knives cut potatoes by themselves and dishes washing themselves."

He grinned, then lowered his head. He remembered his first time over Jared's and Rosa's houses, watching utensils work without human hands and seeing Mr. Infante emerge from the green Floo flames like it was nothing and looking at the picture window at the Diazes that showed a bright, sunny day if it happened to be snowing. It had all been so cool. Back then, the Wizarding World was the greatest thing ever.

Then the war came and stole his innocence.

He prayed Jenna's little sister had a better time in this world than he had.

O'Bannon found he'd be sharing a room with Harry and Ron, while Mireet would bunk with Ginny and Hermione. After unpacking, he headed downstairs to join the others and partake in some of those leftover sandwiches. When he finished eating, he sat on a sofa next to Artimus and Jenna, helping deflect many of Mr. Weasley's Muggle questions away from her and toward him. Mireet sat in a cluster of chairs with Harry, Ginny, Hermione and Mrs. Weasley catching up with them. After a while, Mrs. Weasley went into the kitchen get dinner ready.

The more time that passed, the more he started to relax. Mr. Weasley kept going on about Big Macs and _ekel-trik-lik _razors and hair dryers. Ginny talked about her upcoming tryouts with the Holyhead Harpies, which led to her, Harry and Mireet exchanging Quidditch war stories from Hogwarts and Beauxbatons, respectively, while Hermione pretended to be interested.

Little by little, a smile formed on his face. It grew rapidly when he watched Mr. Weasley become animated when he began asking questions about cupholders. Behind him, laughter erupted when Ginny talked about the day Luna Lovegood did commentary for a Gryffindor/Hufflepuff match.

Everything felt . . . normal.

The front door opened.

"We're home."

All conversation stopped. O'Bannon tensed, feeling the sudden shift in the mood of everyone in the living room.

George entered The Burrow, Ron right behind him.

O'Bannon glanced around, noticing Mr. Weasley and Ginny avert their eyes, almost as if they felt guilty for enjoying themselves seconds before. Then he looked to George. He clenched his teeth, suppressing a shiver.

His friend appeared thinner and paler than the last time he saw him in December. And his eyes. My God, it was as if all life, all hope, had been sucked out of them.

"George. Ron." Mr. Weasley found his voice. "Look who's here."

O'Bannon got up, followed by Artimus, Mireet and Jenna. George's eyes swept over them. For a moment, it looked as though he'd smile.

He didn't.

"Hey, George. Ron. How . . . er, good to see you guys again."

"You too, Jimmy," George replied in a flat voice.

Hugs and handshakes were exchanged, with Mireet adding the typical welcoming kiss on both cheeks.

O'Bannon found it hard to keep his eyes off George. He couldn't help but think back to their Hogwarts days, George constantly smiling and joking and laughing, living life to the fullest.

That George Weasley no longer existed. Just looking at his friend reminded him of Mr. Diaz, and how he had deteriorated after his wife's death. Even a year after the war, George didn't seem have gotten better. Hell, he seemed to be getting worse.

_Is he ever going to get better?_

Dinner was a quiet affair, at least, quiet by Weasley standards. The people around the table did talk, though usually in hushed tones, and in no more than three sentences. A few times Mr. or Mrs. Weasley would mention tomorrow's ceremony, mainly about what time everyone should get up, when they should leave, what they should wear. Inevitably, all eyes, even his, shifted to George, as if they all worried he might breakdown. Mostly, George just picked at his food while everyone else talked.

O'Bannon wanted to pound his fist in frustration. He wanted to return to those raucous dinner conversations he'd been part of his last time at The Burrow. He wanted hilarity and energy and enjoyment. But how could they have any of that when one key element was missing from this table?

Fred.

Artimus and Jenna turned in soon after dinner. No doubt jetlag had caught up with them. O'Bannon did the same an hour later. He tried to fall asleep, but instead stared at the ceiling, thinking about how quickly the mood of The Burrow shifted after George's arrival, thinking about the subdued conversations at dinner.

Thinking about how the George he knew no longer existed.

Then again, he could say the same about many other people he knew. Jared, Rosa, Mr. Diaz. Heck, even himself. None of them were the person they had been before, even during, the war.

O'Bannon rolled onto his side, his jaw quivering. Everything that mattered to him in this world had fallen apart.

**XXXXX**

O'Bannon checked himself in the full-length mirror, scanning the black hockey jersey with gold and red trim and a logo in the center of three hockey sticks forming a triangle with the crests of Hogwarts, Beauxbatons and Durmstrang on the points. In the middle was the word TRIAD.

That had been his idea, for all the members of the Triad to wear their jerseys to the dedication ceremony for Fred's monument. The more he stared at the jersey, the more his mind took him back to the day of the big game with Slytherin. The thrill, the anxiety, the determination. All those emotions resurfaced, as strong now as they had been four years ago. He also felt something else. Satisfaction in knowing he helped create something bigger than himself, something that would last long beyond a single hockey game.

At least, he thought it would.

How could there be a Triad without Fred? If it hadn't been for Fred and George asking him to teach them about hockey, there never would have been a Triad.

_I did put that in the speech, right?_ He reached into the pocket of his dress robes and pulled out a piece of parchment. O'Bannon read the first few lines, then stopped. Dread slithered into his stomach and twisted it into knots. He'd never been shy about public speaking. Hell, he made it a habit of giving pre-game speeches when he captained the Triad and the Blazenrowe Hall hockey team. But he never had to give a speech where he paid tribute to a dead best friend. Could he do this without choking up? Or crying?

_Oh God, please don't let me cry in front of all those people._

Someone knocked on the door.

"Yeah. Come in." He stuffed the speech back in his pocket_._

Mireet opened the door. She, too, wore her old Triad jersey over her dress robes.

"Everyone is gathering downstairs," she told him. "We should be ready to leave in a few minutes."

O'Bannon nodded. Drawing a deep breath, he headed for the door. Mireet stepped aside to let him pass. He took a few steps into the hallway before she called to him.

"Jimmy?"

"Yeah, Mireet?" He turned to face her.

"I . . . I was wondering. Tomorrow I'll be leaving for France to spend the next month with my family. I was . . . I wanted to see if you would like to join me."

The shock paralyzed him. Mireet was asking him to come home with her? Meet her family? In the past the prospect ought to thrill him. But . . .

_Why now? Of all the times, why now?_

He stared at her, swallowing as he noticed hope radiating across her beautiful face.

_And here I thought she didn't want to be around me. Does this mean . . . Do we actually have a chance to . . ._

He tightened his face, fighting to keep his emotions under the surface. "I'm sorry, Mireet. But I don't think I could get a month off from work.

"It doesn't have to be a month. It could be for just a few days."

"I wish I could, but summer is a busy time at my place with all the kids out of school, and . . . I'm sorry. Thanks, really. But . . . I'm sorry."

A crest-fallen look came over Mireet's face. Her shoulders sagged. "That's all right. I understand."

A dank pool of self-loathing formed inside him. His neck muscles twitched as his eyes shifted to the wall. He couldn't bear to look at Mireet, seeing her so disappointed, realizing he was the cause of it.

And knowing he had lied to her.

_You made your decision. You have to stick to it._

"Um . . . we, um. We better get going."

Mireet quietly nodded and followed him downstairs.

Once everyone had assembled in the living room, Mrs. Weasley chucked Floo Powder into the fireplace and said, "The Three Broomsticks."

The group walked through the green flames and ended up in the famed pub in Hogsmeade. From there they began the short trek to Hogwarts. It wasn't long before he saw the spires from the castle. His pace slowed as he eyed them, imagining the carnage that occurred in there over a year ago. He shivered as he Fred, Tonks, Lupin, Colin Creevey and so many others lying dead in the Great Hall.

_Is that all I'll ever think about when I see this school?_

They followed small knots of witches and wizards across the grounds, headed toward the Triad's old hockey pond. Rows of white chairs formed a big semi-circle around the small body of water. O'Bannon's eyes drifted to the black marble mass sitting on the far bank.

Fred's monument.

"Hi, everyone."

His head rotated toward the direction of the voice. A bolt of joy shot through him. A young woman with brown curly hair waved at them. Flanking her was a tall, athletic, dark-skinned woman and a slender, angular-faced woman with short black hair.

"Hey, ladies." He managed a smile as he approached Katie Bell, Angelina Johnson and Alicia Spinnet. He also noticed a tall, burly young man with brown hair standing with the girls. O'Bannon didn't recognize him.

Hugs and friendly pecks on the cheek were exchanged.

"Good to see you again, Ang."

"You too, Jimmy. I just wish . . . well, that it was under better circumstances." Angelina tightened her hug on him. When she released him, she lowered her head and tightened her lips. He sighed to himself, studying his friend's face. Angelina looked like she was trying very hard not to cry. Sympathy poured out of his heart for her. Everyone in Gryffindor House long suspected Fred and Angelina had harbored feelings for one another, though neither ever acted on them.

Nor would they ever have the chance to do so.

He gently grasped Angelina's shoulder. She flashed him an appreciative smile.

"Oh, Jimmy," Katie said. "I don't think you ever met our old Quidditch captain. This is Oliver Wood. Oliver, Jimmy O'Bannon."

The burly young man smiled and shook his hand. "Pleasure to finally meet you. The girls have told me a lot about you. Interesting game this _hoe-key_, at least from what the girls here tell me about it."

"Thanks. Nice to meet you, too." Though this was the first time he met Wood, he'd heard plenty about him from Fred, George, Harry and the girls. An absolute Quidditch nut, an exceptional Keeper who now played for Puddlemere United, and a taskmaster as a coach. He remembered Fred telling him one time after a Triad practice, "I have to admit, Jimmy Boy. Your team speeches rank right up there with our old captain Oliver Wood's."

He still didn't know if Fred meant that as a compliment or not.

_And I'll never be able to ask him._

More friends and former teachers greeted him; Michael Corner and his girlfriend, Cho Chang. Ernie MacMillan and his girlfriend, Hannah Abbott. Harkorth and Velich, part of the Triad's Durmstrang contingent. Professor Flitwick, the Charms teacher and Head of Ravenclaw House.

"It'll be nice to have a reminder of Fred Weasley on the school grounds." The short man with a squeaky voice stared across the magically frozen pond at the monument. "He and George were two of my favorite students. Sheer geniuses, in their own, unique way."

O'Bannon's eyes widened. Never did he imagine a Hogwarts teacher praising the twins in such a way. Heck, Fred and George made it their mission to infuriate the faculty during their time here. Then again, he couldn't remember them going out of their way to rub Flitwick the wrong way. Probably because Flitwick was the friendliest and coolest teacher at Hogwarts.

"Mister O'Bannon. Miss Weasley."

Both he and Ginny spun around at the sound of the familiar voice. A tall witch with a wrinkled yet stern face wearing dark dress robes and a pointy hat waved for them to come over.

"Professor," the two stated when they stopped in front of Minerva McGonagall, Headmistress of Hogwarts.

"It's good to see you two again." She smiled briefly and shook their hands. "I just wanted to let you know we'll be starting the ceremony in a few minutes. I shall make some opening remarks, then turn things over to you first, Miss Weasley, then you, Mister O'Bannon."

"Okay." O'Bannon nodded, trying to ignore the nauseous feeling the enveloped his stomach.

Professor McGonagall put a hand on their shoulders. "You sure you two are up to this?"

"Yes, Professor." Ginny sounded like she had to force the words through her lips.

"Yes, Professor." He concentrated to make sure he sounded confident.

"Good. Now, you'd best find your seats."

Ginny rejoined her family, who sat in the front row. O'Bannon, Mireet, Artimus and Jenna found some seats in the row behind them. He began to lower himself into his seat when he noticed someone, a tall, redheaded young man, slumped in his seat between Ron and his older brother Charlie.

He froze. A flicker of anger sparked inside him, growing hotter and hotter by the second.

His eyes narrowed as he continued to gaze at Percy Weasley.

Percy. The one Weasley sibling he actually disliked. The sibling who cared so much about his career he kicked his family to the curb. And when he finally did come to what little senses he had and rejoined his family at the Battle of Hogwarts . . .

The anger lines on his face deepened. His fists clenched as he glowered at Percy. He'd been with Fred, fighting Death Eaters, when that wall exploded. When Fred . . .

O'Bannon wanted to jump over the row, grab self-centered jagoff by his neck and shake him like a rag doll. "WHY DIDN'T YOU PROTECT FRED!" He wanted to scream at his face. "YOU SHOULD BE THE ONE WHO DIED! NOT HIM!"

He knew he should be disgusted with himself for having such a thought. Right now, however, he couldn't find it in him to feel that way.

"Jimmy?" Mireet gently grasped his arm. "Are you all right?"

He looked into her concerned face, fighting down the rage that had built up.

"Yeah, I'm fine." He muttered and took his seat.

Minutes later Headmistress McGonagall strode to the podium. All conversations tapered off and those who hadn't sat down did so.

"Ladies and gentlemen, on behalf of the faculty and staff, I bid you welcome to the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry for this very special ceremony."

McGonagall took a short breath before continuing. "It's been just over a year since, on these very grounds, one of the most horrific wars in the history of the Wizarding World came to an end. While we have honored those who gave their lives in the final battle numerous times, several former students felt it fitting to give special recognition to one of those fallen heroes in particular."

McGonagall turned to the monument, her gaze in line with the large moving photo of a grinning Fred Weasley.

"There are many who remember Fred Weasley solely for the countless pranks he and his brother George conducted during their time at Hogwarts."

She paused. O'Bannon swore he saw the old witch's jaw quiver. He couldn't believe it. McGonagall always seemed so in control of herself. He never would have expected her to get choked up under any circumstances.

McGonagall gripped the sides of the lectern and continued. "But there is something else Fred Weasley will be remembered for. That is helping to bring to this school a better understanding of the Muggle World through a game called hockey. But along with that understanding, came the chance for students from our different houses, even from different countries, to forge bonds that would carry them through one of the darkest periods in our history. For that, today we dedicate this monument in his memory."

Applause rippled through the crowd.

"Thank you. And now, I would like to call up two people who knew Fred Weasley well, who were part of the Triad team that played on this pond four years ago. First, I'd like to present to you all, Fred Weasley's sister, Ginny Weasley."

More applause. O'Bannon noticed Ginny shiver momentarily. Harry turned to her, squeezing her hand. She looked to him, giving him a brave smile, before standing and walking to the podium.

Several seconds of silence passed before Ginny looked up at the audience and began speaking. Even from his seat, O'Bannon noticed her eyes glistening.

"When I first came to Hogwarts, one of my biggest dreams was to play Quidditch with my brothers. While I did have the opportunity to take the pitch with Ron, I never had the chance to be in the air playing with Fred and George. But on this pond . . ." Ginny bit down on her lower lip for a couple seconds. "On this pond, I did get to play with Fred and George, in a game I never imagined myself playing. But more than that, I felt . . . I was a bit shy at the time, and playing hockey, being with all of you on the ice, it helped me break out of my shell. I became so close with many of you, and I firmly believe that, for many of us, the bond we had on this team carried over into the creation of Dumbledore's Army. That bond also helped carry us through the most harrowing time of our lives as we did everything we could to resist the Carrows' brutal rule at Hogwarts. None of that would have been possible without . . ."

Ginny's voice cracked. She held the sides of the lectern in a deathgrip. After a shaky breath, she continued. "None of that would have been possible, if not for my brother Fred, and everything he did to make the Triad a reality. I owe . . ." She turned away from the crowd, looking to Fred's photo on the monument. "I owe you so much." Her words came out strained. "Thank you, Fred. Thank you."

She closed her eyes, lowered her head, and walked quickly away from the podium. She nearly collapsed in her seat next to Harry, who wrapped her in his arms.

Headmistress McGonagall returned to the podium. "Thank you, Miss Weasley. We'll now hear from the young man who was also instrumental in the creation of the Triad. The captain of that team, Jimmy O'Bannon."

O'Bannon swallowed, his stomach flipping over. He felt himself rooted to his seat. Fear squeezed his chest. If two tough-ass witches like Headmistress McGonagall and Ginny Weasley couldn't get through this without almost breaking down, what chance did he have?

_**TO BE CONTINUED **_


	40. Burning Bridges

**CHAPTER 40: BURNING BRIDGES**

After a shaky breath, O'Bannon forced himself to rise. His shoulders tightened as he felt hundreds of eyes on him.

_Oh my God. Can I do this?_

He scanned the rows around him. Every inch of his body quivered as he caught the gazes of former teammates. Angelina. Katie. Seamus Finnigan. Susan Bones. Terry Boot. Harkorth.

O'Bannon gritted his teeth, mentally screaming at his nerves to settle down. It didn't matter how many years had passed since their game with Slytherin. He still thought of himself as their leader. He had to show strength even when he just wanted to find an out of the way corner of the castle, ball up, and cry.

Fists clenched, he marched to the podium and took out the speech from his pocket. He placed it on the lectern, drew a breath, and looked up at the audience.

"A lot of people credit me with forming the Triad. But that credit shouldn't go to me. It has to go to Fred."

He glanced quickly at the large photo of Fred on the monument behind him. "Fred wanted me to show him how to play hockey. And I firmly believe it was his presence on the ice that convinced other people to join us. And why's that? Because Fred had the respect of most of the students here. For all the pranks and for all the joking he did with his brother, anyone who knew Fred knew they had a loyal friend. If you were feeling down, he'd go out of his way to cheer you up. If you asked him for help, he'd give it to you, and never ask for a thing in return. When the horn sounded, he was one of the first ones to hit the ice. And when the war . . ."

_Oh crap!_ A lump formed in his throat. He swallowed, forcing it down. "And when the war came, he didn't hesitate to fight against Voldemort. And I think it's safe to say that everyone on our team followed his example. Because of him, we formed a special bond that made us more than hockey players. It made us a family. It made us comrades-in-arms. Like Ginny just said, that bond got us through the darkest period of our lives. It's my hope that this bond we share lasts beyond that one game, that one year we had together at Hogwarts. It's my hope that this bond extends to our children, and our children's children."

The corners of his mouth twisted. He felt like a hypocrite saying that, especially given what he had already decided to do with his life.

"This bond would not have been possible without Fred. Therefore, it's only appropriate that we honor his memory with this monument, on the very pond where so many of us came together four years ago. And hopefully, the generations of Hogwarts students that follow us will stand before this monument and realize what a special and inspirational man Fred Weasley was."

After a couple seconds of silence, O'Bannon nodded to the audience, turned and walked off. A sigh of relief escaped his lips.

_Thank God I got through that._

He slid into his row and made for his seat.

"Good speech, mate," Seamus said to him.

"Nicely done, Jimmy," Bill Weasley told him, while his misty-eyed wife, Fleur, nodded to him.

"Spot on, mate." Lee Jordan slapped his arm. "Spot on."

O'Bannon fell into his seat, the tension rushing out his body. He started to slouch forward when Mireet's hand reached out and gripped his. He turned to her just as she leaned forward and gave him a gentle kiss on the cheek. His body tingled. Did her lips linger on his cheek longer than the average friendly peck?

"That was beautiful, Jimmy." Her breath washed over his ear.

His chest tightened as he looked at her. She put on a brave smile, though her glistening eyes made her appear on the verge of sobbing.

Headmistress McGonagall took the podium and thanked O'Bannon and Ginny for their speeches. She then invited everyone to file past the monument.

The Weasleys went first. O'Bannon gritted his teeth as hard as he could as he watched Mrs. Weasley stand in front of Fred's photo, tears running down her cheeks. Mr. Weasley gripped her by the shoulders.

"Fred. Oh, my dear boy." She reached out and ran her fingers along the photo.

Her knees gave out. Mr. Weasley wrapped his arms around her to keep her from falling to the ground. Charlie and Percy also rushed to her side to support her. Mrs. Weasley convulsed with sobs and buried her face into her husband's chest.

More sobs rose around him. Katie Bell pressed both hands over her face. Lee's shoulders convulsed. Professor Sprout, the Herbology teacher, and Madam Pomfrey, the school nurse, both turned away, wiping their eyes. Two sobs escaped Mireet's throat before she hugged O'Bannon and pressed her forehead into his shoulder. Even Jenna, who'd only met the Weasleys once before coming to England, rubbed her eyes with a tissue while Artimus held her against his side.

Tears stung O'Bannon's eyes, yet he kept his face stiff. He couldn't cry here, not in front of his former teammates. He was their leader. Leaders had to be strong.

His inner strength was put to the test with every Weasley that approached the monument. Bill hugged a sobbing Fleur as tight as a drowning man would a life preserver. Charlie's face twisted in an unsuccessful attempt to hold back his tears. Percy sobbed unabashedly. George just stood there, frozen like a statue, staring at his dead twin's photo with unblinking eyes. O'Bannon had no idea how long he stood there, numb to the world around him.

Eventually, George moved away with shaky steps. Ron took his spot, holding Hermione's hand tight. While she let out a couple sobs, Ron imitated George and just stared numbly at Fred's photo.

Ginny tried to remain stoic as she stood in front of the monument. She lasted about twenty seconds before the tears flowed from her eyes. Harry wrapped an arm around her shoulders, while he wiped at his own eyes.

Others filed past the monument. Some prayed, some left flowers, others, mainly Triad members, left pucks.

Finally it was O'Bannon's turn. He swallowed, again fighting back the tears. Fred's image smiled back at him. For a moment, it didn't feel like he was dead. He expected Fred to make some wise crack, or offer him some joke candy, or invite him on another late night raid of the Hogwarts kitchens.

Instead the image just smiled silently at him.

A scowl flashed over his face. Times like this he hated these moving photographs.

Mireet laid a rose at the base of the monument and touched its side. "I'll miss you, Fred. We all will."

O'Bannon bit his lower lip as he gently rubbed Mireet's back. His eyes fell to the inscription on the monument.

FRED WEASLEY . . . BELOVED BROTHER, SON, FRIEND AND HERO. YOU WERE OUR LIGHT IN THE DARKEST TIMES. YOUR SPIRIT WILL FOREVER RESIDE WITHIN EVERYONE YOU TOUCHED.

He removed a puck from his pocket and scanned the etching he made in it.

TEAMMATES 4EVER. JB.

He bent down and placed the puck in small pile of others. Hesitantly, he straightened up and stared back at Fred's smiling image.

"Bye, mate."

**XXXXX**

Everyone retired to the Great Hall, where lunch had been prepared. O'Bannon shuffled along with the crowd, Mireet by his side. When he passed through the arched entrance, he gazed up at the enchanted ceiling that showed a bright sunny day, then looked down at the four long wooden tables stretching from one end of the hall to the other . . . then froze. A chill gripped him. His eyes darted to the floor.

_This is it. _This is where they had brought the dead during the Battle of Hogwarts.

He was afraid to move. Would he step on the same spot where Tonks had laid? Or Fred? Or Mr. Lupin. Or Colin Creevey? He scrunched his head between his shoulders, feeling their spirits around him.

"Jimmy? Mireet squeezed his hand.

"Huh?" O'Bannon turned to her.

"Are you all right?"

"Um . . . yeah. Sure. I'm fine."

He resumed his gait before Mireet could say anything else.

They sat at the same table with the Weasleys, Mireet on one side of him, Artimus on the other. Dozens of conversations echoed throughout the Great Hall, though it failed to match the volume and zeal he remembered during his one year here. Still he picked up a couple normal conversations around him. Ernie talked to Anthony Goldstein about how he and Hannah planned to go to the Caribbean for vacation . . . or holiday in Brit Speak. Angelina and Lee discussed the upcoming Quidditch season. Jenna peppered Susan Bones with questions about the enchanted ceiling.

O'Bannon sat quietly, picking at the roll in his hands. An occasional sob or sniffle filtered through the conversations. Even without looking up, he could tell who they came from. Mireet. Fleur. Hermione. Katie. Mrs. Weasley.

His grip on the roll tightened, crushing it. An urge swelled within him, an urge that brought with it guilt. He just wanted to get out of here now, start fresh with –

"Mister O'Bannon."

"Huh?" He twisted around and saw Headmistress McGonagall standing behind him. "Oh. Um, sorry, Professor . . . er, Headmistress. Um, what can I do for you?"

"Oh, nothing." McGonagall held up a hand. "I just wanted tell you that I was very impressed with your speech. You could not have given Fred a more proper tribute with your words."

"Thank you, Headmistress."

McGonagall did something he rarely saw her do. She smiled at him. "So will you be staying in Britain long?"

"Um, no. I'm actually heading back to the U.S. tomorrow." The veins in his neck tightened as he noticed Mireet close her eyes and lower her head.

"Oh. Well, hopefully one day we'll see you back in this country."

"Hear, hear." Terry Boot called out from across the table. "After all, Professor, we need to take Jimmy here to a _real _professional Quidditch match. Not those kiddie games that pass for pro Quidditch in The States."

"Now Mister Boot. I'll have you know that there are some rather exceptional Quidditch teams in America."

"Of course, Professor. I'm sure there are." Terry shrank back a little, but still wore a wry grin.

O'Bannon's jaw clenched. Come back here? He wanted to tell them, but how could he? This was Fred's day. He couldn't shift the spotlight to himself.

_But these are your friends. They have a right to know._

"Terry's got a point there, Jimmy," said Michael Corner. "You know with me and him we'd have to take you to a Puddlemere match. Don't know if Cho here would want to go. She's more a Wimbourne supporter."

His jaw tightened further. My God, all this talk of what they'd all do when he came back to England, and they didn't know . . .

"Excuse me, I . . . I'll be back."

O'Bannon rose, ignoring the bewildered looks from the people around him. He marched quickly out of the Great Hall and wound his way through the corridors. He had no particular destination in mind. He just needed to get away from everyone.

_How do I tell them? What will they think?_

When he finally stopped, he found himself at the base of the stone staircase leading to Gryffindor Tower. Letting out a long breath, he plopped down on the first step. Arms resting on his knees, he drooped his head and stared at the floor. He never imagined this part of his grand plan to be so difficult. Then again, after everything he'd been through with this bunch, how could it be easy?

"Jimmy?"

He looked up. Mireet stood a few feet away, concern etched in her face.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing. I'm . . . fine." His voice trailed off, his gaze returning to the floor.

"You are most certainly not fine." Mireet came over and sat beside him, putting an arm around O'Bannon's back. He held his breath as she leaned against him.

"Sorry," he muttered. "It's just . . . I needed to clear my head." He grimaced after saying that, knowing Mireet would never buy it.

"It is a hard day for everyone. Even after all this time, I still find it difficult to believe Fred is really dead."

"Him, and a lot of other good people." O'Bannon shut his eyes, picturing the faces of Tonks, Rana and Mrs. Diaz.

Mireet slowly rubbed his back. "My mother told me what it was like for our family after Markese was killed." She referred to her brother, who died at age three during the first war with Voldemort. "They were so consumed with grief and guilt. So many times they wanted to just give up on life, but they knew they couldn't for the sake of my sister and me. Eventually, his death became easier to deal with."

O'Bannon snorted. "It's been over a year since Fred died. And Tonks, and Rana, and Mrs. Diaz and all my classmates who attacked Helghorst Island. I've been waiting for it to get easier, but it's not happening."

"You must give it time."

"How much time, Mireet?" He shot to his feet, causing her to gasp in surprise. "How long is it gonna take before I can get through one day without thinking about the war and all the people I know who were killed? How long is it gonna take before I feel like a normal human being again? This is peacetime, isn't it? Everything's supposed to be great. So how come I feel like the war is as much a part of my life right now as when I was fighting it?"

"Jimmy, it was a horrible time for all of us." Mireet got to her feet. "But you must deal with -"

"I can't deal with it any more, Mireet! I can't! That's why I have to leave, because . . ." He clamped his lips tight and turned away from her.

"Leave? What do you mean you have to leave? Where are you going?"

He sighed, closing his eyes for a moment. Drawing a deep breath, he turned to face Mireet.

"A couple months ago, I was on the Boston Bruins web site, and they were advertising for an open tryout. It takes place a couple weeks from now. I decided to go to it."

"You mean you may actually get to play for the Bruins?"

"I doubt it. More likely if they take me, they'll put me in the minors. Still, I'd be playing pro hockey."

A smile crossed Mireet's lips. "That sounds like a wonderful opportunity. I'm sure it will be interesting to work in the Muggle World after spending so many years in this one."

O'Bannon bit down on his lower lip. "Mireet, I'm not just going to work in the Muggle World. I'm . . . I'm returning to it. Permanently."

She blinked, taking a step back. Slowly, her mouth fell open. "What? Permanently? Jimmy, you . . . you are really leaving? Forever?"

A dark blade plunged through his heart and into his stomach as he stared at Mireet, her face ablaze with shock, and her eyes . . . they radiated much more than shock. Could it be Distress? Sorrow?

His throat constricted. Unable to speak, he merely nodded.

"How . . . Why?" Her eyes glistened with tears. "Jimmy, please. You can't . . ."

"I . . . I'm sorry."

Mireet's jaw quivered. Her entire body stiffened as she appeared to fight the urge to cry.

The lump in his throat threatened to choke him. He hated seeing her like this . . . especially since he was causing her pain.

"I'm sorry," he croaked out. He didn't trust himself to say anything else.

Mireet kept staring at him with tear-filled eyes that pleaded with him to stay.

O'Bannon strode up to her and embraced her. Mireet sniffled as she wrapped her arms tightly around him. He planted a long kiss on her cheek, savoring her flowery scent and the feel of her body against his. His heart hammered in his chest. Time ceased. He just wanted to stay here forever, with Mireet in his arms.

"Please, Jimmy." Her voice wavered. "Please don't do this. I . . . I'll miss you so much."

_I'll miss you, too._ "I'm sorry. I have to."

Reluctantly, he released her. A tear slid down her cheek. O'Bannon's neck muscles tightened. His chest ached as another tear escaped Mireet's eye.

"I'm sorry." He turned and quickly walked away, afraid he'd lose it if he stayed a second longer.

He marched into the corridor, head down, footfalls echoing off the stone walls.

_Look what I did to her._

_Am I doing the right thing?_

_You are! There's no turning back._

_Says who?_

_It'll end badly anyway, just like every other relationship I've ever been in._

"Jimmy!"

Mireet's voice cut through his inner conflict. He spun around, paralyzed for a moment when he caught sight of her.

Her face now displayed a mixture of sadness and anger. "This is your answer? Things are hard for you, so you just run away? Turn your back on everyone and everything that ever mattered to you?"

"Everyone and everything that ever mattered to me in this world has fallen apart. The family of two of my best friends is in shambles. Another best friend is dead, along with two ex-girlfriends, and every day something in this world reminds me of them. How can I put all this behind me if I stay here? I'm sorry, Mireet. I really am. But going back to the Muggle World, and staying there, is the only way I can move on."

He whirled around and turned the corner into another corridor. A couple feet away someone held open a bathroom door.

That someone was George Weasley.

O'Bannon halted. George's blazing eyes bore into him. His shoulders rose and fell with slow, angry breaths.

"So that's it then, is it? You're just going to run back to the Muggle World. Forget about all of us here. Forget about Fred."

"George . . ." He took a step toward him. "That's not -"

George's hands shot out and slammed into O'Bannon's chest. He stumbled back, barely managing to keep from falling to the floor.

"George!" Mireet rounded the corner. "George, no! Stop!"

He looked up at her. An instant later his gaze returned to O'Bannon.

"Fine! Go back to the Muggle World! Just remember, some of us don't have the luxury of running off to another world to forget about dead brothers."

George turned and stomped off. O'Bannon watched him go without a word. He then looked back to Mireet, who stared after George in shock. It took several seconds before she shifted her eyes to him. Again, that mixture of anger and sadness returned to her beautiful face.

He lowered his head and shuffled off, headed for the main exit.

_So this is how it ends here._ He had broken the heart of the woman he loved, and pissed off one of his best friends to the point he nearly beat the crap out of him.

He hesitated when he reached the exit, staring out at the rolling lawn and the trees and the blue sky. He closed his eyes, remembering his one year at Hogwarts. He never imagined that this school, and so many of the people inside it, would come to mean so much to him.

At least, it _used to_ mean something to him.

He strode out of the castle, across the grounds, and out the main gate of Hogwarts, never once looking back.

_**TO BE CONTINUED**_


	41. Dream Time

**CHAPTER 41: DREAM TIME**

"Merry Christmas, family!" Jared walked through the door of his parents' home, arms spread out and beaming.

"Jared!" Mom sprang out of her seat and hurried over to hug him.

"Welcome home, son." Dad came over and flung an arm around his shoulders.

Jared continued smiling as he gazed around the living room, taking in the Christmas tree, the wreaths and other decorations. Chairs and couches were occupied by several relatives, including . . .

"Rosa!" His cousin bounded across the room and leaped on him, hugging him tightly. "Merry Christmas!"

"Merry Christmas to you, too, cuz." She kissed him on the cheek.

"So, are you going to move out of the way, or are you going to let me stand out here and freeze to death?"

Jared looked over his shoulder at the slender Indian woman with long jet black hair.

"Sorry, sweetheart," he apologized to – _which one should it be? Um . . . oh, let's make it Parvati._

He stepped aside and allowed his girlfriend, Parvati Patil, to enter the house, levitating two sacks of presents behind her.

"Wow, you certainly got a lot for me and the future wife." George Weasley sidled up behind Rosa and wrapped his arms around her waist. "But what did you get everyone else?"

"George." Rosa playfully elbowed him in the gut.

"Well take your coats off a stay a while." Mom grinned, taking their coats and levitating them over to a nearby coat rack.

"So, the big hero graces us with his presence." Esteban strode over to him, smiling, with Oriana and Rodolfo behind him.

Jared smiled and hugged his big brother.

"Good job stopping those relic thieves in Thailand. We're all proud of you."

"Thanks. But hey, those guys were idiots. No match for a highly skilled wizard like me."

"If you expect me to bat my eyes at you and gasp, 'my hero,' you're barking mad." Parvati smirked at him.

Jared pretended to look hurt, then reached over and tickled Parvati's side. She squealed and jumped back.

"New Christmas tradition for ya, Jared? Groping your girlfriend in front of your entire family."

He swung around, smiling wide at the newcomers filing through the door. Jimmy led the way, followed by his parents, Mireet, Artimus, Jenna and Samantha.

After an exchange of hugs and handshakes, Jimmy handed him a huge, giftwrapped box.

"Oh man, is this what I think it is?" Jared tore off the wrapping. His eyes widened as he stared through the plastic cover at two dozen Dunkin' Donuts.

"Jimmy O'Bannon, you are the man!"

They ate Dunkin' Donuts, chatted and sang Christmas Carols. A while later Parvati leaned against him and whispered in his ear, "Come upstairs. I've got a _special _present for you."

He followed her up the stairs and into his bedroom.

"So what's this special present you got for me?" he asked, closing the door.

Parvati grinned seductively. "You're looking at her."

She began slipping off her robes.

Jared's heart beat furiously as he watched her undress.

_Oh man. This is gonna be the best Christmas ever._

Suddenly, the world went out of focus.

_What the . . . aw man, no!_

Jared blinked. His head felt fuzzy. He rubbed his eyes and looked around. He was in his bedroom . . . the bedroom of his tent in the jungles of Thailand.

"Dammit." He wiped the drool off his chin, one of the side effects of the Daydream Charm. Shoulders slumped, he sat on the edge of his bed and sighed. Why the hell couldn't that charm have lasted longer? Why couldn't he just stay in that dream world where Mom was alive, his family was happy and together, and where he even had a girlfriend, albeit one of the Hogwarts girls he merely fantasized about?

But no. He was back in the crappy-ass real world, with no mother, no tight knit family, no girlfriend, and now, with one less best friend.

Jared pushed himself off the bed and shuffled over to his small desk. He frowned, staring down at the letter he received two days ago. His eyes locked on a few key sentences.

_I can't stop thinking about all the people we lost . . . It's too hard for me to stay here . . . I have to go back to the Muggle World and stay there, otherwise I think I'll just lose it . . . Thanks for being a great friend._

He still couldn't believe Jimmy was leaving. For Merlin's sake, the guy was a rock! No matter how bad things got, he always held it together, held all of them together. How bad had things gotten for him that he had to bail on the Wizarding World?

An invisible cocoon wrapped around him, threatening to suffocate him. Never in his life had he felt so alone. He'd always had people around him he could depend on. His parents, his brother, Rosa, Aunt Adelaide and Uncle Cesario, Jimmy.

Who did he have now, with his family a mess and him thousands of miles from home?

No one but himself.

_Yeah. That's a help._

He trudged out of his bedroom. A flash of anger went through him, anger at the Daydream Charm. The thing needed twelve hours to refresh itself before he could use it again . . . dammit. Maybe he could experiment with it, figure out a way to use it more than twice a day.

The stifling jungle heat hit him full force the moment he stepped outside the tent. He lifted his head to the sky. Sunny and blue. Jared knew that could be deceiving. This time of year rainstorms popped up suddenly, and sometimes lasted for hours.

Head down, he walked over to the food tent and snatched a bowl of rice. He didn't see anyone else eating. Everyone had likely gone off to their respective digs, which was where he should be right now. Once again, the Daydream Charm caused him to be late.

_Whatever._

He wolfed down his rice and made his way through the old Khmer village, passing crumbling stone structures, some of them being examined by two or three researchers. As he approached a weathered, five-story pyramidal structure, a reedy Asian man with short black hair and an angular face turned to him.

"You're late, Diaz," grumbled Prajak Channukul, the expedition leader from the Thai Ministry of Magic's Department of Magical Research and Exploration.

"I overslept," he grumbled back.

Grunting in annoyance, Prajak pulled out his wand and flicked it. Seconds later a cylindrical container flew out of the structure's main entrance. Prajak used his wand to place it at Jared's feet.

"What's this?" He shifted his eyes from the container to his boss.

"Your new job. Those scrolls were found in one of the lower levels. Try and decipher them."

Prajak didn't wait for a response. He just turned and marched into the structure.

Jared stared at the rectangular opening Prajak had disappeared through for several more seconds. He then looked back down at the container. He had to fight off an overwhelming urge to kick the damn thing. Other wizards and witches got to work on opening sealed and cursed vaults, or examine the mysterious obsidian arch in an underground chamber, which a couple researchers theorized might be a gateway to another world.

And what did he get stuck with? Some old parchment.

_My life sucks._

He levitated the container beside him and headed into one of the work tents. Several long wooden tables stretched from one end to the other. Over a dozen witches and wizards of various nationalities were scattered through the tent, either examining relics or studying texts, or both. A few of the researchers glanced up as he entered, then lowered their heads just as quickly.

The cocoon of loneliness tightened around him.

Sighing, he took a seat at an empty table and unscrewed the top of the container. As he did, he caught sight of a slender brunette with a creamy complexion sitting two tables away. Petra Cobb, part of the British contingent. Jared had met her the day he arrived here. When he learned she was from England, he had to ask if she had any friends or relatives at Hogwarts, on the chance he may have run into one of them.

Petra answered him with a grief-stricken look before running away in tears. She hadn't spoken to him since.

His attempts at making friends with other members of the expedition also met with similar success. Some were so wrapped up in their projects they felt they didn't have time to socialize. Others were much older than Jared, to the point they had no common ground between them. Then, of course, he had to deal with the language barrier. Researchers from all over the Wizarding World had come to this Khmer village. During meal times, the food tent echoed with Thai, Japanese, Chinese, English, German, Spanish, Portuguese, Russian, Arabic, French. It reminded him of that story he learned about in Muggle Studies, the Tower of Babel. He knew a few phrases of Spanish taught to him by his grandparents, and picked up just a smattering of Thai since coming here. As for the English-speaking witches and wizards, most didn't seem good candidates to hang out with.

Eventually, he just stopped trying to make friends.

Jared pushed those thoughts from his mind and removed a piece of parchment from the container. After unfurling it, he pulled out his wand and his translation dictionary and went to work.

The parchment was charmed to make all the words appear as gibberish. The charm, however, didn't seem very complicated. Jared needed just ten minutes to counter it. After that came the hard part. Translating the text from the Angkorian Khmer of that period.

His eyes constantly moved from the parchment to the dictionary. A word here, a phrase there. After a while a pattern emerged. Lists of ingredients. The locations of certain herbs and plants near the village.

_It's a potion._ A potion over a thousand years old. And probably not a very important one.

_How do you know? The guy who wrote this did charm it so no one else could read it._

_Yeah. A really weak-ass charm._

_Maybe not for back then. Maybe . . ._

Jared got up and headed toward the large bookshelves set up near the rear of the tent. He found three potions books, brought them back to the table, and flipped through them. Chances were he'd find the potion in one of these books. But if not, then maybe he'd actually discover some hitherto ancient cure for some horrible disease. How many Muggle movies had he seen where some _ark-log-ist _like Indiana Jones found an all-powerful ancient relic that could change the modern world?

Maybe . . .

He froze when he got halfway through the second potions book. There before him were the ingredients for the potion, a potion that got rid of bad sunburn.

_But why hide it from everyone? _

Maybe back then this potion had been brand new, and the guy who came up it them didn't want anyone stealing his secrets.

He grunted and slouched in his chair, scowling at the container. This was what he wasted most of the day on? Learning that some Khmer wizard came up with a remedy for sunburn? And what about the other pieces of parchment? Did they contain cures for other minor maladies?

_Wow, some discovery. Prajak'll be thrilled._

Jared's scowl deepened, thinking of the other pieces of parchment Prajak wanted him to decipher. Dammit, he didn't come to Thailand to learn the ancient Khmers knew how to heal sunburns. He wanted to help open mysterious vaults and discover jaw-dropping secrets.

How the hell could he do that if Prajak stuck him with these crap jobs?

He rolled up the parchment, shoved it back into the container, and stomped out of the tent.

_I can't believe I'm gonna be stuck here for a year._

Jared slapped the flap of his tent. He flung the container across the small living room and plopped down on the couch. Biting his lip, he checked his watch.

"Dammit! He had about three more hours before he could use the Daydream Charm again.

Snorting in frustration, he pressed his head against the armrest and closed his eyes. He tried to imagine the Daydream world again, his family together and happy, one of those smokin' hot Hogwarts babes by his side. Parvati Patil. Or maybe her twin sister, Padma. Or Angelina Johnson. Or Cho Chang. Heck, even Hermione Granger was pretty good looking, though he could do without that high-strung, know-it-all personality.

But it wasn't the same just thinking about it. He didn't feel the happiness, the sense of belonging, of togetherness he felt with the Daydream Charm. With only his imagination to draw on, his made-up world seemed hollow.

He rolled on his side, staring at his watch, counting down the hours, the minutes, the seconds, before he could return to that daydream world.

**XXXXX**

Jared emerged from his tent the next morning, trying to force a smile. He should be happy this morning, ecstatic even. The Daydream Charm he cast shortly after he woke up dropped him into a very steamy fantasy involving him and Angelina Johnson. Who the hell wouldn't be exhilarated after a few go-rounds with that dark-skinned Amazon?

But when the Charm faded, he wasn't with Angelina. Hell, she hadn't even been real. The real world was his lonely bedroom inside his lonely tent in Thailand.

He trudged into the food tent, got some rice, rolls and fruit for breakfast, and found a deserted corner of one of the tables to eat.

When he finished eating, he headed back to his tent to retrieve the container when he heard someone call out, "Diaz! Over here."

He turned to find Prajak about thirty feet away. Jared cocked his head when he noticed another person standing beside him. A short, thin Thai witch with long black hair and soft, delicate features.

_She's hot._

He walked toward them, a bit more energy in his step. "What's up?"

The unsmiling Prajak replied, "The Department of Magical Research and Exploration has sent some of their apprentices here to gain practical field experience. I am assigning this one to be your assistant."

Prajak turned and walked away before Jared could utter a word.

_My . . . assistant?_ What the hell was he supposed to do with an assistant?

Mouth agape, he slowly rotated his head toward the girl. She offered him a shy smile. Worry rippled inside him. Did this girl speak any English?

That answer came moments later.

"Um, hello. I'm Tasanee Nakaihat." She stuck out her hand.

"Uh, Jared. Jared Diaz." He shook her hand, noticing how soft it felt.

"It's nice to meet you. I'm looking forward to working with you."

"Uhhh, thanks."

Awkward silence hung between them. Jared wracked his brain, trying to come up with something to say. Personal history? Specific areas of research she enjoyed?

_What the hell, man? You've talked to hot girls before?_

"So, um, what brings you here?" He winced after asking that stupid question.

"Well, this is part of my training course for becoming a field researcher. So what do you want me to work on with you?"

"Well, right now they have me translating some scrolls. Looks like a bunch of old potions. C'mon, I'll show you."

Tasanee followed him back to his tent, where he retrieved the container. As they headed for the work tent, Jared said, "You know, your English is really good."

"Thank you. I actually studied for a year in Australia. The Bogooroota Institute for Magic in Queensland."

"Cool. One of my best friends was an exchange student, too." His jaw clenched. Part of him wanted to rephrase that to, "I _had _a best friend who was an exchange student." He still couldn't believe Jimmy was leaving the Wizarding World forever.

"Oh. Where did he go?"

"Hogwarts, in England."

Tasanee's eyes widened. "Really? So did he know some of the people who fought in the big battle there?"

"Yeah. So did I." Jared's head lowered, thinking about Fred, Tonks and Mister Lupin.

"You were an exchange student, too?"

"No. I went over to England a couple times with Jimmy to help the Brits during the war."

"What did you do?"

"Well, one time we had to warn them about Voldemort trying to bring over American Death Eaters and dark creatures to build up his army. Then this other time we had to hunt down some Chupacabra Voldemort altered into killing machines. Sent a bunch of them to the place we were staying to kill Harry and -"

"Harry?" Tasanee leaped in front of Jared, causing him to stop. "You don't mean Harry Potter?"

"Yeah. Actually, I sort of became good friends with him."

"Wait a minute. Harry, Jimmy, Jared . . ." Tasanee let out a surprised gasp. "This Jimmy. Would that be Jimmy O'Bannon?"

"Yeah. You heard of him over here?"

"Sure. One of my friends from Australia has family in America. They sent her some articles about everything he did, that you all did, during the war, then she sent them to me. It's amazing. All those months in the mountains, protecting all those children. That's so heroic."

Jared suppressed a grunt. "We just did what we had to do."

"And you really had to eat tree bark?"

"Sometimes."

Tasanee grimaced.

Jared shrugged. "Eh! You get used to it."

"It's incredible what you did. I was still in school when the war going on. Things weren't as bad here as in other parts of the world, but we did see our share of battles. Sometimes I wish I could have made some sort of contribution."

"Just be grateful you were in school when all that was going on. Trust me."

Tasanee stared at him silently for a few moments, then nodded.

They continued the rest of the way to the work tent.

"So what made you want to come to Thailand?" she asked as they entered through the flap.

"It sounded like a good opportunity. You know, travel to some far away land."

"So how do you like it here?"

Jared chewed on the inside of his cheek. Telling her the truth would probably sound like he was bashing her country. And he didn't actually hate Thailand itself. He just hated being stuck on this little patch of earth that happened to be in Thailand.

Still . . .

"It's cool. There's some interesting stuff here."

"So do you miss your family?" Tasanee asked as they both sat down.

Tension gripped his shoulders. He said nothing, just stared hard at the table.

"Jared?" Tasanee leaned forward, trying to catch his eye. "Jared? Are you all right?"

He slowly moved his jaw back and forth. After a slow exhale, he turned to the Thai witch. "I've got some . . . issues with my family."

"Oh. I'm sorry. You don't get along with certain relatives?

"Yeah, you could say that. Just . . . just a bunch of crap having to do with the war. Sort of the reason I'm here. I just . . . I just needed to get away from them."

Jared waited a few moments for Tasanee to respond. When she didn't, he unscrewed to top of the container. He pulled out a piece of parchment and unfurled it.

"It's not good when family members don't talk to one another."

"What?" He turned to Tasanee, brow furrowed.

"It's just, bad things can happen when families don't communicate, or hold grudges, or just ignore one another."

His face tightened as he kept staring at her. "Yeah, well . . ." He wasn't sure how to finish that thought.

"Have you tried talking to your relatives?"

"Of course I have." His words came out sharper than expected. "Not that it did much good."

"Then you need to keep trying."

He shut his eyes, anger building inside him. Anger at himself, at Aunt Adelaide and Uncle Cesario.

At this Tasanee, who only served to remind him how inadequate he'd been, not doing a thing while his family fell apart, expect hoping someone else would fix everything.

No one did.

Jared felt his cheeks redden. It figured the one person he met here who seemed decent would make him dwell on what a mess his family had become.

"A lot of stuff happened to my family you don't know about. Stuff you can't fix by just talking."

He shoved the parchment in front of Tasanee and stood. "Here. You're my assistant now. You can translate that parchment for me while I go outside and get some air."

He barely glimpsed Tasanee's shocked expression as he stalked out of the work tent. Fists clenched, he headed back to his tent. Maybe, just maybe, if he closed his eyes and concentrated hard enough, he could return to his wonderful Daydream world without the benefit of a charm.

_**TO BE CONTINUED**_


	42. The Tryout

**CHAPTER 42: THE TRYOUT**

Knots twisted Jimmy O'Bannon's stomach as he pulled into a space in a parking garage near Boston's Fleet Center.

_This is it. Oh my God, this is it._

He'd been preparing for this day for two months, and now it was finally here. Open tryouts with the Boston Bruins.

He got out of the car, grabbing his hockey sticks and equipment bag. Worries flooded his mind. Had he run enough? Had he put in enough time on the ice? He hadn't played a game of competitive hockey in three years. How much would that hurt him?

Would he embarrass himself in front of the instructors?

_Confidence, man. You can do this._

_You _have_ to do this._

He walked out of the garage and into the throng of people moving up and down the sidewalk. The rectangular arena with its half-oval roof loomed nearby. Excitement and nervousness swirled inside him as he approached the huge structure, a place he'd watch numerous Bruins games.

Some of them with Jared, Rosa and Artimus.

O'Bannon sighed, his gait slowing. His mind propelled him back four days ago, when Rosa visited him at his parents' house.

"A letter?" She had shaken the crumpled up parchment in front of her. "After ten years, after everything we've been through, this is how you say good-bye?"

"I'm sorry. I . . ." He just stood there, mouth agape, unsure what to say.

"This isn't like you, Jimmy. When have you ever run away from a problem?"

"I'm not running away." He knew that was a lie. "I just . . . we all went through a lot during the war. People deal with it in different ways. This is my way."

"What, abandoning everyone?"

Again, he didn't answer. He didn't want to admit it, but Rosa had been right. He was abandoning everyone.

They had talked a little longer. Rosa tried to get him to reconsider, but he remained firm in his commitment. In the end, she accepted his decision . . . begrudgingly. They hugged, kept their tears in check and parted.

"Come on, move it!"

The sharp complaint by a sour-faced woman in suitpants snapped O'Bannon back to the here and now. He shook his head and continued toward the Fleet Center. Signs outside the arena directed him to a loading bay at the rear of the building where those participating in the open tryouts could enter. After checking in with a bored-looking, middle-aged security guard, he was issued a pass and directed toward the locker room.

He pushed open the door, and halted. His eyes gazed around the spacious, circular room with rows of wide open lockers, overstuffed cushions and chairs, and wall mounted TV monitors. A lush carpet stretched beneath him. Smack in the center was the black and gold "B" logo of the Boston Bruins.

_Oh my God. I'm in the Bruins locker room. Wicked pissah!_

O'Bannon pushed down his amazement. He had a job to do.

He found an empty bench near one of the lockers and started to change. All the while he scanned the other people in the room. More worry took hold of him when he noticed the T-shirts some of them wore. Boston University. Boston College. University of Maine. University of New Hampshire. All schools with big time hockey programs. The other thing he noticed about many of the guys in the locker room, they were bigger and more muscular than him. O'Bannon prided himself on staying in great shape. But his build had always been more lean and firm than muscular. And five-foot-ten wasn't all that tall. Several of the guys here had to be over six-foot, between hundred-eighty and two hundred pounds, and looked like they lived in the weight room.

_Height and muscles aren't everything. Wayne Gretzky's not that big, and he's only the greatest goal scorer on the planet._

_Then again, I'm no Wayne Gretzky. But who the hell is?_

Once he got suited up, he grabbed one of his sticks and headed toward the ice. Another bolt of incredulity struck him. He stared across the glistening white surface, then around the thousands of empty seats stretching around the arena.

_I am standing on the same ice the Bruins play on._

His awe grew when he spotted the small cluster of people near center ice. He quickly recognized Craig Janney, a top-notch center for Boston during the late eighties and early nineties. Next to him stood Brian Curran, the tough-ass defenseman who never shied away from a fight during his playing days. The stocky guy in the goalie pads had to be Pete Peeters, the 1982-83 Vezina Trophy winner for the NHL's best netminder.

_And I'm on the same ice with these guys. Cool._

Several of the participants took some warm-up laps around the ice. O'Bannon joined them, circling the arena for about ten minutes before one of the instructors told them to line up along the boards.

"Good morning, everyone, and thanks for taking part in this open tryout," said a burly man with receding brown hair and a slight French-Canadian accent. "I'm Evan Letren, the Assistant Director of Scouting for the Bruins." He then introduced the other instructors, giving a brief bio on each of them. After that, he asked the participants to introduce themselves.

Not surprisingly, many of the sixty or so hopefuls who'd come here today had played for the big-time hockey schools. Others hailed from smaller schools or junior colleges. One was fresh out of high school. A handful had played in the minors in North America or in one of the professional leagues in Europe. Two others said they played college hockey, "A while back." Judging from their sizable paunches and fleshy faces, they hadn't done much to keep themselves in shape since their playing days ended.

Eventually the stout, square-jawed guy next to him introduced himself to everyone.

"Turk Mendlesson, defenseman. University of Vermont. I led my team in plus-minus my junior year. I also played a season in Germany for the Kassel Huskies."

The instructors moved their gazes from Mendelsson to O'Bannon. His chest constricted.

_My turn._

"Jimmy O'Bannon, forward. I played for my boarding school's team, then after graduation I became a youth hockey coach."

Letren kept his face neutral. Moments later he nodded, his eyes shifting to the next hopeful.

O'Bannon's lips twisted. _Yeah, that sounded impressive._

An arrogant snort sounded next to him. He turned to Mendlesson, who gave him a sideways glance, smirked and shook his head. O'Bannon easily read the guy's unspoken message. "You don't have a chance."

_We'll see, buttwad._

Once the introductions had been completed, the instructors put them through conditioning drills. All the hopefuls skated a few laps around the ice at normal speed. Then it was all-out from one end of the rink to the other. Then sprints up to the blue line and back. Then weaving through a line of orange cones.

This lasted a half-hour, afterwhich they took a ten minute break. The drills left O'Bannon soaked with sweat and with a leaden feeling in his legs, but he'd held his own with the other participants. Hell, he even outdid some of the big school players.

As he drained his water bottle, he noticed eight hopefuls collapsed on the bench, including the two fat guys and the high school grad. They all looked liked they wouldn't be able to return to the ice unless someone dragged them back.

Next came the offensive drills. The hopefuls were divided into pairs. O'Bannon wound up with a tall, friendly-looking guy named Tommy Hancock, who'd spent the last two years with Erie Community College in Buffalo. First they just passed the puck between them. A few minutes later the instructors had them pass on the move. Aside from one puck Tommy had to reach for, the two made good, crisp passes to each other.

Then things got challenging. The four goalie hopefuls rotated in and out of net, while each pair of skaters came down the ice, made their passes, and took the shot.

O'Bannon clenched his teeth when his turn came. His eyes drifted over to the instructors. Tension squeezed his insides.

_Settle down. Just do your job._

"Next pair . . . " Letren blew his whistle.

He and Tommy took off. After four strides O'Bannon zipped the puck across to Tommy. Moments later Tommy sent it back to him. He had to reach to coral the puck, but still brought it under control.

They neared the attacking zone. O'Bannon slid the puck over to Tommy. Tommy then sent it back to him. He glanced up at the net. The goalie crouched in his crease, stick out, glove at the ready.

O'Bannon scanned for any openings. He spotted space between the goalie's legs, under his right arm, just above the left shoulder.

It took a split second to for him to make his decision.

He reared back and fired the puck. A black blur streaked toward the space under the goalie's arm.

The thud of vulcanized rubber and leather echoed through the arena. The goalie unclenched his glove, letting the puck fall to the ice.

"Dammit." O'Bannon growled as he skated behind the net.

"Good try, Jimmy," Tommy said.

"Thanks," he replied without a smile. Instead he eyed the instructors, particularly Letren and Craig Janney. Neither had seemed too impressed with his prior hockey credentials. A goal would have gone a long way to changing their minds.

The skating pairs got a second chance to attack the net. This time Tommy took the shot.

He scored.

"All right," Letren spoke to the hopefuls. "Now let's see how you do with your passing and shooting when you have to get through a couple defensemen."

Now the instructors got into the act. While one pair of hopefuls headed down the ice, two of the instructors skated between them, breaking up passes or deflecting shots on net. Several pairs got stymied before they got out of the neutral zone. Only a handful managed a shot on net. And only one of those, launched by an ex-Boston College player, went in.

O'Bannon's heart pounded when his turn came. Nervous tingles spread up and down his spine and into his stomach when he saw Craig Janney and Brian Curran take up position between him and Tommy. He bit down on his lip.

_Calm down, man. These two have been retired for years._

That fact did nothing to settle his nerves. Holy crap, he had to beat Craig Janney and Brian Curran. Two ex-NHL players. Two ex-NHL players who'd been very good in their prime.

"Ready . . ." Letren blew his whistle.

O'Bannon took off with the puck. His eyes scanned Janney, Curran and Tommy, noting their positions, noting where they'd likely be moments from now, sensing the feel of the puck on his stick.

He sent a cross-ice pass to Tommy, who took it, skated a few strides, then sent it back to him. Curran reached out with his stick to poke it away, but missed. O'Bannon got the puck, sped through the neutral zone, then passed it back to Tommy.

Into the attacking zone they went. Tommy drew back his stick. Janney got between him and the net. Tommy brought the stick down and sent the puck back to O'Bannon.

He closed with the net. The goalie crouched. Curran got in front of him. He put on a burst of speed, trying to get around him. Curran reached out with his stick.

_Crap!_ He had no angle for the shot.

He glimpsed Tommy over Curran's shoulder. His partner slid to the left. The guy was open, but how . . .

A quick glance gave O'Bannon his answer.

He slapped the puck through Curran's legs. He held his breath as Tommy waited for the little black disc . . .

Which hit off the blade of Craig Janney's right skate and dribbled back toward the neutral zone.

O'Bannon scowled, suppressing the urge to slam his stick on the ice.

"Them's the breaks, kid," Curran said as he skated past.

Growling to himself, O'Bannon skated back to the other end of the ice.

More shooting drills followed. Each hopeful had to fire five pucks at the net in rapid succession. For O'Bannon, his first shot went wide. His second shot hit off the goalie's leg pad. The third shot just missed the net. The fourth shot was knocked away by the goalie's stick. The fifth one streaked toward a huge space over the goalie's left shoulder . . .

And clanged off the crossbar!

He held his stick in a deathgrip, his narrowed eyes targeting the net and the goalie in front of it.

_I cannot possibly suck this much._

With a grunt, he turned away and headed back down the ice. His mood worsened when that jagoff Mendelsson put two of his five shots into the net.

After another break, the instructors divided the hopefuls into groups of five for a simulated game. On his first shift, O'Bannon had one shot on net that was stopped by the goalie. His second shift he never got a good look at the net, but felt he made some good passes to his linemates.

Mendelsson, however, looked very impressive. He delivered a couple good checks, and on his second shift stole the puck from an opposing forward and worked it up ice, passing it to one of his forwards, who sent a one-timer past the goalie.

O'Bannon's third shift was atrocious. It seemed like everyone on his line forgot how to pass the puck . . . including him.

Fear penetrated deep inside him. His muscles tightened as his eyes darted from Letren to Craig Janney to Brian Curran. He hadn't done a single thing to impress them.

_I gotta do something. I gotta show them I can play this game._

_Don't panic. If you panic, you'll only mess up._

_But I can't blow this._

His line got called for their fourth shift. O'Bannon's eyes widened briefly when he noticed Turk Mendelsson's unit opposing him.

The puck came his way. He got it, and spotted two skaters from the other team streaking toward him. He took a few strides down the ice and passed it to one of his linemates. The guy came in at a right angle toward the net, then passed it to the Center, who took the shot. The goalie knocked it away with his stick. A mass of humanity converged in front of the net. Sticks clacked together. Shoves were exchanged. A glove got shoved in someone's face. O'Bannon was about to join in when the puck squirted away from the mob and rolled toward the boards.

He barreled toward it, reached out with his stick.

Something big appeared in his peripheral vision. He glanced left.

Turk Mendelsson bore down on him.

O'Bannon kept going toward the puck.

They both got there at the same time, banging off the glass. O'Bannon jammed his stick against the boards, trying to dig out the puck.

So did Mendelsson.

The Vermont grad jammed a shoulder into him. O'Bannon gritted his teeth, pushing back and fighting for the puck at the same time. Mendelsson got his upper arm under O'Bannon's chin. He grunted and kept jabbing for the puck.

"Back off, wuss!" growled Mendelsson.

O'Bannon pushed harder against the bigger player. He jabbed once with his stick. Twice.

The puck trickled away and was picked up by one of O'Bannon's linemates.

"Yes!" he cheered through clenched teeth.

Mendelsson bumped him with his shoulder, hard. He stumbled, catching a glimpse of the guy's face. Mendelsson aimed a harsh glare at him.

O'Bannon scowled . . . and bumped him back! A mix of shock and anger spread over Mendelsson's face. O'Bannon continued glowering at the prick.

_You wanna go, asshole. Let's go._

Suddenly cheers went up near the goal. O'Bannon looked past Mendelsson . . . and smiled.

One of his guys just scored.

Mendelsson turned to the goal, then back at him. A deep shade of crimson covered his face.

O'Bannon smirked and shrugged his shoulders, remembering Brian Curran's words to him earlier.

"Them's the breaks, kid."

He skated away, leaving Mendelsson to stew.

A half-hour later the simulated game, and the tryout, came to an end.

"We want to thank all of you for coming here today," Letren addressed them. "We saw some pretty impressive play out there by a few of you. What we're going to do next is break down all of you on an individual basis, and see who we may want to sign to a professional contract. If we're interested in you, you'll hear from us sometime within the next week."

O'Bannon's jaw stiffened.

_Of all the days for a suck-ass performance._

Unfortunately, there was nothing more for him to do here. The ball was entirely in the Bruins' court now. He could only wait, and pray, for that phone call.

**XXXXX**

The next day, he hung around his parents' house all morning and afternoon, eager for the phone to ring.

It rang three times. Two of the calls were from telemarketers, the other was from his eighty-four-year-old Aunt Harriet, who wanted to see if his mother would drive her to the beauty parlor next Saturday.

Disappointment clung to him throughout the evening.

_Don't get too down. Letren said they'd call within the next week._

_If they actually want me._

The next day came. Another telemarketer called. So did some sales rep from _The Boston Globe_ to see if his parents would like to renew their subscription.

No one from the Bruins called.

Three days after the tryout, O'Bannon found himself lying on the couch, frowning as he stared blankly at the ceiling.

_They would have called by now if they wanted me._

What the hell was he going to do now? He'd already quit his job at the YWWAAA, moved out of his apartment in Haypippil Square, even returned his owl, Nomar, to the familiar shop. He had nothing to go back to in the Wizarding World. He'd banked everything on that tryout with the Bruins. But it appeared as though the instructors hadn't been impressed by him. Hell, _he _didn't even impress himself.

_What now? _Maybe he could go to college, try to walk-on to the hockey team. But college costs money. Maybe Mom and Dad could help him out.

_And what about grades? _Any college he took an interest in would certainly want his grades from high school. And of course, he didn't go to high school. And he sure as hell couldn't show any college administrators his grades for Defense Against the Dark Arts or Transfiguration.

_What the hell other options do I have?_

He kept staring at the ceiling. Thinking, wondering.

Hoping.

O'Bannon had no idea how much time had passed when the phone rang.

He sat up, eyes locked on the phone on the lightstand next to the easy chair.

It rang a second time.

_Is it the Bruins?_

_More likely another friggin' telemarketer._

Sighing, he got up and walked over to the phone.

"Hello?"

"Yes, I'd like to speak to Jimmy O'Bannon."

"This is him."

"Oh good. Jimmy, this is Evan Letren from the Boston Bruins."

His eyes bulged. He barely cut off a gasp of surprise. "Oh! Um, uh, Mister Letren. How are you doing?"

"Doing well. Yourself?"

"Um, fine."

"Good. Well, I wanted to call and let you know the results of our evaluation of you."

Dread and anticipation gripped his insides.

"Obviously, we were concerned about your size. And you have to work on your shooting. You hurried some of your shots, your form looked a little stiff, and you seemed to hold your stick too tight."

His entire body sagged. Great, so the guy called him up just to tell him how bad he was.

"But," Letren continued. "You had some excellent passes out there. In fact, a couple times you passed the puck when a lot of other players would have shot. That shows me you're an unselfish player. In fact, Craig made note of that a couple of times."

O'Bannon's mouth fell open. _Craig Janney thinks I'm an unselfish player. Wicked friggin' pissah!_

Letren went on. "You're in excellent shape. Heck, you were flyin' around the ice while some of the big school guys were sucking wind. And you really opened our eyes when you won the puck from that big guy along the boards. You showed you're a scrapper, and that you don't let anyone push you around. In fact, Brian says you have a little – his words here – bad-ass in you."

O'Bannon beamed and bounced on the balls of his feet. _Brian Curran thinks I'm a bad-ass! This is the coolest thing ever!_

"Anyway, we all agreed that you're someone we need to take an interest in. Now, given your limited background in organized hockey, and the fact your skills need refinement, we don't think you're cut out at this time for a spot with our affiliates in the AHL or ECHL." Letren referred to the two top minor league organizations in the U.S. "However, there are other lower level leagues out there where you can hone your skills. Are you familiar with the UHL?"

"No, not really."

"It's the United Hockey League. Small outfit with teams throughout the Midwest. The new coach for the team in Fort Wayne happens to be a friend of mine. We played hockey together in college. I called him up and told him about you, and he's willing to take you on his team for this coming season. Hopefully after a year or two there, you'll be ready to move up. Sound good?"

O'Bannon tried to answer. Shock paralyzed his vocal cords. Finally he forced out the words. "Yeah. Yes. Yeah, that sounds good. It sounds really good. Thank you, Mister Letren."

"Well, you earned this shot. Just work hard, listen to the coach, and you'll have a good shot moving up the ladder. Jacques, or Coach Remelle to you, should be calling you in the next day or two to work out your contract and let you know the dates for physicals and training camp. Congratulations, Jimmy, and good luck."

"Thank you, Mister Letren. Thanks a lot."

He hung up the phone, and just stared at it. His mind still couldn't fully accept the reality. He was about to become an honest-to-God professional hockey player. He'd dreamed about this so many times, and now, it was about to happen for real.

"Yes!" He pumped his fist and grinned wide. For the first time in over a year, something good had actually happened to him.

_**TO BE CONTINUED**_


	43. Encounter In The Owlery

**CHAPTER 43: ENCOUNTER IN THE OWLERY**

* * *

_LOCATION: Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Scotland_

_TIME FRAME: The end of "Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire"_

* * *

Mireet's eyes started to water long before she reached the castle. She held her breath, her gaze sweeping over the crowd of students around the stone steps. Every few seconds she spotted a familiar face. Angelina Johnson. Katie Bell. Ernie MacMillan. Michael Corner. Because of the Triad, she'd become friends with so many wonderful people here.

Now she had to leave them.

"Mireet!" A short, slender girl with bright red hair hurried over to her.

"Ginny." She smiled, a tear trickling down her cheek as Ginny Weasley threw her arms around her.

"I'm gonna miss you."

"I will miss you, too." Mireet hugged her back. "You have been such a wonderful friend."

"You too."

"Here now, quit bothering the lovely French witch. She's got more important people to say farewell to than you."

Mireet couldn't help but grin as she released Ginny. She stared over the younger girl's head to find Fred and George Weasley sidling toward her, both grinning.

"Sod off, you gits!" Ginny snapped.

The twins both put their hands over their hearts and let their jaws drop, feigning shock.

"You see the sort of abuse we have to put up with from this one, Mireet" said Fred.

"Yes, it's unbearable," George chimed in.

"Could you find it in your heart to take us with you back to France?"

"Yes, please." George clasped his hands in front of him, as if he was praying. "I fear for our very sanity if we have to spend one more day with this embodiment of evil." He aimed a wry grin at Ginny.

Mireet giggled softly as Ginny narrowed her eyes at her brother. "You should feel blessed to have a sister as wonderful as Ginny."

"You're not the one who has to live with her."

Ginny glowered at Fred as he and George strode up to her.

"Anyway." Fred waved his hand, trying to shoo away his sister. Ginny just folded her arms and stared daggers at him. "My brother and I have a going away present for you."

"Really?" Mireet cocked an eyebrow. It was wise to be cautious of any gift from Fred and George.

With great flourish, George produced a giftwrapped box from his robes and handed it to her. She held it out at arm's length, fearing it would explode, or squirt something, or do any number of unpleasant things.

"They're Canary Creams," Fred told her. "Bite into one and you turn into a big canary."

Mireet's eyes widened.

"But don't worry," said George. "A minute later, you molt and turn back to normal."

"Pass them around to your friends," Fred suggested. "Or better yet, your enemies."

"Who knows? You may help us open a whole new market in France."

Mireet laughed. She looked up from the box to Fred and George. Tears blurred her eyes. "Thank you. You have made my year here at Hogwarts so enjoyable. I'm going to miss both of you so much."

"We're going to miss you, too, _Mademoiselle."_

Another tear rolled down her cheek as she gave each twin a fierce hug and a peck on both cheeks. At the same time, Angelina and Katie approached them.

Fred turned to the two girls, staring at them dreamily, a hand over his cheek. "I say, why can't our British girls do this cheek-kissing thing?"

Angelina snorted. "Why would any British girl waste even a halfway decent kiss on you?"

Fred gasped. "You wound me, Johnson."

"Good to know." She smirked at him.

Mireet smiled, another tear escaping her eye. She so enjoyed this banter between Fred, George and their friends.

Just another thing she'd miss.

She shed more tears as she said her good-byes to Angelina and Katie. Other members of the Triad soon came up to her. Seamus Finnigan. Susan Bones. Harkorth. Anthony Goldstein.

She just finished hugging Dean Thomas when she spotted another member of the Triad, one that sent a flutter through her stomach.

Jimmy O'Bannon stood a few feet away. He smiled, though she sensed tension radiating from him, as if he was holding back a torrent of emotions.

They just stared at one another in silence.

"Um, right then." Fred looked around at the other British students. "I guess we should all . . . get back to our knitting, or some such thing."

Fred, George and the other Triad members headed off, many offering a final good-bye.

All of Mireet's attention was on Jimmy, and vice versa. Tremors surged through her legs. She swallowed against the lump in her throat as fresh tears trickled down her cheeks. Even Jimmy's eyes glistened, though from his stiff jaw he suppressed any urge to cry.

Finally, he crossed the short distance between them.

"I can't . . ." Again, his jaw stiffened. "I can't believe this is it."

"Neither can I." Her voice quivered.

Jimmy drew an audible breath. "Mireet, I . . . you helped make my time here unforgettable. You're just . . . you're such an awesome and beautiful girl, and I'm so glad I got to know you."

Somehow, she choked off a sob. Her watery eyes took in every inch of that round handsome face, that lean body, and that aura of confidence surrounding him.

Merlin's beard, would this be the last time she ever saw Jimmy?

"I . . ." She fought to steady her voice. "I can't imagine what this year at Hogwarts would have been like had I not met you. I had so much fun playing hockey, and at the Yule Ball, and . . . and just being with you. I'll miss you so much."

Suddenly they were in each other's arms. Mireet pressed her face into his shoulder, stifling a sob. Her grip on Jimmy tightened, never wanting to let him go.

He slowly stroked her hair. She closed her eyes, sighing with content. She desperately wished for this moment to last forever.

"Ahhh, Mireet?"

Reluctantly, she untangled herself from Jimmy and looked to her right.

Fleur Delacour stood a couple feet away, looking a bit uncomfortable. A rare occurrence for the silver-haired half-veela.

"Sorry, but Madam Maxime says we are ready to leave."

"_Oui. Merci, _Fleur."

Fleur smiled at her, then bowed slightly to Jimmy before heading for the huge blue carriage that housed the Beauxbatons contingent.

Mireet turned back to Jimmy. They took hold of each other's hands.

"Bye, Mireet." Jimmy nervously bit his lip. It seemed he wanted to say something else.

When he didn't speak, she began to open her mouth.

That's when Jimmy lifted his head, leaned forward and kissed her.

Shock paralyzed her for a second. Her muscles soon relaxed, and she lost herself in the sensation of his lips gently pressing against hers.

With a soft _smack_, their lips part. Tingles raced through her body as Jimmy stared at her.

"Um . . ." His neck muscles stiffened. "Sorry. I, um, I had to do that. I hope you're not offended."

Mireet smiled at him. "I would have been offended if you did not."

She leaned forward and kissed him.

The world turned blurry. Tears threatened to burst from her eyes. She squeezed Jimmy's hand.

"_Au revoir, _Jimmy."

"_Au revoir."_

Mireet forced herself to let go of Jimmy's hand. She backed away, not wanting to turn around. She just wanted to keep looking at Jimmy and . . . and . . .

Her insides collapsed into a black hole of regret. She thought back to the night of the Yule Ball when she told Jimmy she did not want to start a relationship with him, fearing her heart would break when they had to return to their respective countries.

Yet her heart was breaking. She could still feel his kiss, his arms around her, his hand stroking her hair. What would it have been like to have experienced months of that? To be with someone so strong and compassionate and loyal. To be with someone who wouldn't be embarrassed of someone whose mother worked for the Office of Muggle Relations.

She would never know, all because of her foolish fear of having her heart broken again.

Yet here she stood, heart broken, and drowning in a pool of regret over what might have been between her and Jimmy.

Mireet turned away, a fist pressed to her mouth. She prayed she could keep from crying until she reached the carriage.

The world went out of focus. The ground vanished from under her feet. Mireet hung in a netherworld of nothingness.

Her eyes flickered open. She felt something soft under her head. She blinked a few times before she realized she was in her bedroom.

_It was just a dream._

She sighed, pressing her head deeper into her pillow. No, not so much a dream as a memory, one that still lingered in her mind.

_Jimmy._

Mireet rolled on her side, staring at the window across from her, sunlight filtering through the curtain. Again she recalled that last day at Hogwarts, to the point she could feel the sadness of saying good-bye to the young man she fell in love with.

_Fell in love with, and never told him._

She lay in bed, her hands clutching the top of her blankets, wishing things could have been different for her and Jimmy. Wishing he hadn't decided to leave the Wizarding World forever. Wishing that night in her apartment ended with them falling asleep in each other's arms, instead of crying over the letter informing them of Fred's death.

Wishing she had the courage to begin a relationship with him the night of the Yule Ball.

_Curse you, Marc-Andre. This is all your fault._

She sighed. Much as she wanted to, she couldn't place the blame on her former boyfriend. Yes, he had torn her heart to pieces when he broke up with her shortly before she left for Hogwarts. But she let that broken heart rule her.

The fault lay squarely on her shoulders.

Mireet had no idea how much time passed before she forced herself out of bed. After showering, putting on fresh clothes and fixing her hair, she headed downstairs. As she neared the landing she saw a slender woman with white hair and angular features casting a Dust Removing Charm on the fireplace.

"Mireet." The woman looked up at her. "You are finally up."

"Good morning, Mother." She tried to smile as she walked across the spacious parlor. Instead, the corners of her mouth sagged.

Simone Miradeaux tilted her head and cocked an eyebrow. "Is everything all right?"

"_Oui._ I'm fine. I just . . . had trouble sleeping."

"I find that hard to believe considering how late it is. Do you realize it is almost ten-thirty? And aren't you supposed to meet Monique for lunch?"

Mireet closed her eyes and sighed softly. She completely forgot about her lunch date with her older sister.

"_Oui._ I will be there." She turned and headed toward the kitchen.

"Are you sure you are all right?"

"I am fine, Mother." She grimaced, noting the unintended sharpness in her voice. "I'm just tired. I'm going to get something to drink."

She poured herself a glass of Pumpkin Juice and stepped outside onto the deck. She stood against the railing, sipping her juice while she looked at the waves from the Bay of Biscay that crashed against the rocks below her parents' home. The scent of salt air filled her nostrils. A smile slowly formed on her face as she stared out at the water that stretched into the horizon. She'd always enjoyed this view, ever since she was a child. Anytime she felt sad, she would come out here and stare out at the sea, losing herself in its deep blue surface, forgetting all her problems.

That's what she tried to do now. Forget about her vacation ending next week. Forget about Jimmy no longer being a part of her life.

The latter proved impossible.

Mireet lost track of time, to the point her mother came out on the deck to remind her it was almost time to leave. She headed back inside and grabbed a handful of Floo Powder from the urn next to the fireplace.

"_Marche d'Endicott."_

She entered the gushing green flames. Seconds later she emerged on platform overlooking a cobblestone road. She followed several other wizards and witches down a small flight of stairs and climbed aboard an uncovered, wooden carriage pulled by four white horses.

"_Café d'Aquisto,"_ Mireet told the horses.

Four more passengers got into the carriage and announced their destinations. Moments later the horses broke into a trot, pulling the carriage and its occupants past the gothic stone structures and wooden buildings that made up the large Wizarding shopping district in Paris.

Ten minutes later she arrived at the café, which featured red wood siding, large windows, and an outdoor dining area. She just got off the carriage when a young woman with short blond hair and smooth, angular features waved to her from one of the outdoor tables.

"Hello, Monique." Mireet leaned down and gave her sister a quick peck on the cheek.

"You are late." Monique looked back at her, unsmiling.

She frowned and sat across from her. "I overslept."

Monique's brow furrowed. "Is everything all right?"

"Yes. I am fine." Mireet picked up her menu, more to avoid her sister's gaze than to see what she wanted to eat.

"You are not fine."

A sigh of frustration escaped her lips. First her mother, now Monique. She peered over the top of her menu. Her sister leaned forward, eyes narrowed, a stern expression on her face.

Mireet's shoulders sagged. Unlike their mother, Monique would badger her until she finally admitted what was wrong.

_Heaven save me from overprotective sisters._

"I was thinking, actually dreaming, about someone. Do not worry about it."

"Who were you thinking about?"

Mireet let her menu fall on the table, her face scrunching in annoyance. Monique's expression grew harsher. Silence hung between them. Mireet debated whether or not to tell her sister the truth, knowing how she felt about . . .

"It is the American, isn't it?"

A flash of anger went through Mireet. "He has a name. It is Jimmy."

"Oh yes, your precious Jimmy."

Now Mireet's eyes narrowed. She hated when Monique adopted that condescending tone whenever she mentioned Jimmy's name.

"How long will you keep torturing yourself over this man?"

Mireet's gaze fell to the table. "We went through much together during the war, and after."

"Then why did he leave you?"

Mireet shifted uncomfortably in her seat. She opened her mouth a couple times, but no words came out. On her third try she managed to utter, "There were a lot of . . . issues he was dealing with."

"Oh, stop making excuses for him." Anger lines dug into Monique's face. "Many people suffered during the war, yet they have not abandoned this world like _he _did." She said the word "he" like it was a curse. "He abandoned _you._ Yet despite that, you still have feelings for him."

"We both have feelings for each other. It's just . . . things kept happening to get in the way -"

"Another excuse." A middle-aged couple at the table next to them turned when they heard Monique's sharp words. "If he had feelings for you, if he truly cared about you, he would have done more to be with you. Ah, it's best he did not. From the way you talked about him, he seems . . . unfocused."

"How can you say that? Jimmy was a great leader during the war, a decorated hero."

"Yet what did this decorated hero do after the war? Teach a Muggle sport to children?"

Mireet leaned forward, taking a slow angry breath. "How can you talk like that when our own mother works for the Office of Muggle Relations? And considering all the Muggle activities she involved us in when we were children?"

"You enjoyed those more than I did. Besides, I have nothing against Muggle games themselves. I just wonder about a man who wishes to make teaching them to children his life's work."

"I do not believe Jimmy wanted to do this for the rest of his life."

"Then what does he want to do? Or rather, what _did _he want to do before leaving you?"

Mireet chewed on her lower lip. "Well, I know he did desire to be an auror at one time. But his grade in Potions prevented him from doing that."

Monique huffed. "In other words, he had no idea what sort of career he wanted in our world. Perhaps that is another reason he left. Playing a game is easier than having a career that entails some sort of responsibility. You are better off without him."

Mireet's fist pounded the table, causing the little glass vase in the middle of the table to wobble. "Do I look I am better off without him?"

"You need to accept reality, Mireet. The American is gone and he is not coming back. Get over him. Besides, he does not deserve you. You need to find yourself a practical man, one with a clear vision of his future, and settle down with him."

"A practical man? You mean someone like your Emile?"

Monique's eyes narrowed. Mireet didn't flinch under her sister's furious gaze. Monique's boyfriend was a decent enough man, though he appeared to have been born without an ounce of passion or humor or any sort of personality.

To put it bluntly, Emile was a complete bore.

_And Monique wants me to settle down with a man like that?_

The furious look on Monique's face eased, somewhat. "Emile is very focused and hard-working. He expects to be running the Ministry's Office for the Importation and Exportation of Exotic and Dangerous Magical Items in four years."

"You must be so proud."

"I am." Again anger settled over Monique's face. She'd always had little tolerance for sarcasm.

"And do you love one another?"

"Of course we do."

Mireet studied her sister's face, especially her eyes, to see if she had really meant that or if she just said that to shut her up. She gave up after a few seconds when she couldn't tell.

Monique let out a long sigh. "Love and practicality are not mutually exclusive. You would do well to remember that."

Before Mireet could respond, a ghost with bushy hair and a long skirt floated up to their table.

"Good day, ladies. Are you ready to order?"

"_Oui."_ Mireet snatched her menu off the table and stared at it. She really had no idea what she wanted. She just wanted to stop her sister from giving her any more advice on her love life.

**XXXXX**

_TWO WEEKS LATER_

Mireet sat at her desk at the French Embassy in Washington D.C., trying to figure out what to do first. Make arrangements for the Ambassador to take in a match involving the French National Quidditch Team on their current tour of the U.S. Put forth the request by the Herbology professor from Beauxbatons to export ten kilograms of toxic Cremhocken Weeds from Mississippi. Check on the preparations for next month's reception for the Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards.

It all seemed like mundane work. Though after everything she did during the war, Mireet didn't mind mundane work. Setting up meetings and receptions was much less stressful than sending secret messages back and forth between the U.S. and Europe or fighting Death Eaters.

Mireet picked up a piece of parchment that had the schedule for the French Quidditch Team's games when she glimpsed one of the framed, moving photos on her desk. She lowered the parchment and stared at the picture of her and Jimmy, the night of the Yule Ball.

_Jimmy._

She closed her eyes. Would she ever convince herself to remove that photo from her desk? Jimmy was no longer a part of her life. She needed to move on.

But part of her still missed him greatly. Another part didn't want to get rid of the photo because to do so would mean her sister was right. She wasn't ready to admit that yet.

"Mireet."

She looked up and saw a short, regal-looking witch with long black hair striding toward her desk, an envelope in her hand.

"_Oui, _Madam Ambassador?"

Ambassador Lerrin Beliveau handed the envelope to Mireet. "Please owl this to the Secretary of Magic. It is my letter congratulating him on his recent election."

"_Oui. _Right away."

She got up and headed off to the owlery atop the embassy. As she took the stairs, she gazed at the envelope, her eyes lingering on the name.

U.S. SECRETARY OF MAGIC CESARIO INFANTE.

She smiled, glad the Americans elected him, thus eliminating the "interim" from his title. Rosa's father was a good leader who got things done.

Mireet sighed, thinking of Jimmy's friends. She had talked to Rosa and Artimus upon her return to America. Rosa was looking forward to completing auror training, though she still worried about her Uncle Irving. The man rarely accepted visitors, and refused to speak to Mrs. Infante. On top of that, Rosa hadn't heard from Jared in quite a while and missed him very much.

Artimus, meanwhile, seemed to be doing fine. His one-year anniversary with Jenna was coming up, and he asked her for advice on making the day special.

She dared asked if he had heard anything from Jimmy. Through the Floo flames she watched as Artimus' face fell.

"I haven't heard a thing from him since he sent me that letter," he had told her. "I just . . . how could he just leave like that?"

_How many times have I asked myself that question?_

She opened the door to the wooden tower that housed the owlery.

"Atalanta," she called out. A few seconds passed with no sign of the beige and gray Eagle Owl.

Mireet frowned. She always used Atalanta to send messages. Not only was the bird beautiful, she also had a very affectionate personality.

"Atalanta? Are you here?" Her eyes swept over the owlery . . .

And came to rest on a tall young man with a square jaw, close-cropped black hair and dark eyes.

The breath caught in her throat for a moment. "Oh. Forgive me. I didn't know anyone was here."

"That is all right." The man offered her a brief smile. "This is not the owl you are looking for, is it?"

Mireet noticed Atalanta perched on the man's arm, an envelope in her beak.

"Um, actually, it is. I always use Atalanta whenever I can. She is my favorite owl here."

"Well, in that case . . ." The man removed the envelope from the owl's beak. "Okay, you. Go over to the fair lady there."

Mireet felt herself blush. "No, please. It is no trouble. I can use another owl."

"Who am I to deprive you of your favorite one? Go on. Go to her."

Atalanta flew across the owlery and landed on Mireet's outstretched arm. She gave her the envelope and told her to deliver it to the Secretary of Magic. Seconds later, the owl left through the window.

She turned, a brief tingle going through her stomach as the man strode up to her.

"_Merci." _She smiled at him. "That was very kind of you."

"It was my pleasure. Oh, forgive me. Where are my manners?" He extended his hand. "Alain Durand."

"Mireet Miradeaux." She shook his hand.

Alain's eyes lit up. "Mireet Miradeaux? As in the famous war hero?"

"I don't know if I would describe myself that way."

"I would. I heard of many of your exploits during the war, including fighting alongside the Americans during the Battle of Helghorst Island. It is an honor to meet you."

Alain lifted her hand to his lips and gently kissed it. Again, Mireet held her breath as tingles went up and down her arm.

"_Merci. _I do not believe I have seen you here before."

"I just started working at the embassy two weeks ago. The Aurors Directorate assigned me here as the Special Assistant for Security Matters."

"So does that assignment keep you busy? Things have been relatively quiet since the war ended."

"True, but even in peacetime there are always dark wizards and witches about who would not hesitate to bring harm to French citizens visiting the United States. Besides, if I wish to move up in the Directorate, these sort of diplomatic assignments are necessary."

"And how high up do you wish to go in the Aurors Directorate?"

"To the very top. Chief Auror. Hopefully I can achieve that in ten years. Fifteen at the most."

Mireet noted the tone of Alain's voice. Confident, but without being arrogant. Plus he just had a look that suggested he had the drive and talent to achieve this goal.

"And what of you?" he asked. "I doubt you wish to be an assistant to the Ambassador forever."

"Oh no. I traveled a great deal as a child. My parents' jobs with the Ministry at the time kept us on the move. I would like to travel more. Take on more responsibility myself. Perhaps become an ambassador myself someday."

"Interesting." Alain smiled. "Unfortunately, I must return to my office. But perhaps we can continue our discussion on the future over dinner."

"Dinner?" Mireet swallowed, shock paralyzing her briefly.

"Yes. I would consider it an honor if you'd join me."

Mireet just stared at him in silence. Dinner? A date? He was really asking her out?

Her stomach flipped over. Jimmy entered her thoughts. Part of her felt like accepting Alain's offer would seem like a betrayal to him.

"_He abandoned you." _Her sister's words echoed in her mind. She also recalled some of Monique's other words, the ones about settling down with a man who was focused and practical.

Those two terms seemed to fit Alain, who, she had to admit, was very handsome, too. He had his future figured out, and knew what he had to do in order to succeed.

She stared into Alain's dark eyes and smiled. "I would be delighted to have dinner with you."

_**TO BE CONTINUED**_


	44. The Debut

**CHAPTER 44: THE DEBUT**

* * *

Jimmy O'Bannon stared down at his jersey, his eyes lingering on the orange buzzsaw logo with a black "K" in the center. His heart hammered in his chest. He clenched his stick in a death grip. All the while he prayed he didn't throw up.

"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!" The P/A announcer's voice boomed through the Allen County War Memorial Coliseum. "PLEASE WELCOME TO THE ICE, YOUR FORT WAYNE KOMETS!"

_Oh my God. This is it._

Cheers and wild applause erupted from the ten thousand-plus fans. Towers of flame rose from a pair of pyrotechnic machines near the entrance ramp. The Komets streaked between the fiery jets in single file. O'Bannon felt the intense heat for a split second before following his teammates for their pre-game lap around the ice.

The crowd roared louder, drowning out "Welcome to the Jungle" as it played over the P/A. His eyes flickered around the stands. Fans, many wearing Komets jerseys or T-shirts, jumped and clapped, or held up hand-made signs. A few waved huge flags bearing the Komets logo.

_Wicked friggin' pissah!_

He stood in front of the bench for the National Anthem, performed by a choir from Indiana University-Purdue University at Fort Wayne. After that was the ceremonial puck drop, done by the mayor of Fort Wayne. The entire time he kept bouncing on his skates. He didn't want to be disrespectful, but dammit he wanted the game to get going. He wanted to officially become a professional hockey player.

Finally the first lines for the Komets and their opening night opponent, the Missouri River Otters, took to the ice. O'Bannon sat on the bench, his legs bouncing, his hands squeezing his stick in a death grip. Excitement and anxiety collided within him, especially inside his stomach.

_Don't puke. For the love of God, don't puke._

The referee dropped the puck between the two players at center ice. O'Bannon held his breath as the players' sticks clattered together. A second later the River Otter guy slapped the puck to one of his wingers.

The game was on.

A chill went up O'Bannon's back. His shoulders knotted. Fear ripped through his brain. What if he messed up? What if he embarrassed himself? My God, there were ten-thousand people here!

_Dude, you've been in combat. If you can deal with that . . ._

He closed his eyes, trying to block it out. That happened in the past, in a world he no longer belonged to.

"Second line, go!"

His eyes snapped open at Coach Remelle's shout. The first line approached the bench. O'Bannon's chest tightened.

_Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God . . ._

He drew a quick breath, sprang off the bench and leaped over the boards. His skates hit the ice.

Jimmy O'Bannon was now in his first professional hockey game.

All extraneous thoughts flew out of his mind. He rushed through the neutral zone with his four other linemates as the River Otters worked the puck up ice. Men in green jerseys flashed by him. O'Bannon's eyes flickered around the ice, trying to keep track of all the players. He pumped his legs, trying to cut off any potential pass from the puck handler to the left winger.

The puck zipped across the ice. O'Bannon reached out with his stick . . . and just missed it.

The River Otter winger took the puck, reared back and shot. The Komets goalie, Gabriel Unken, kicked out his right leg. The puck deflected off his leg and skidded toward the boards.

O'Bannon went after it. So did one of the River Otters, a big, burly defenseman with the name SHAVER on the back of his jersey.

O'Bannon angled his body and got the puck. Shaver tried to clip him, but wound up hitting the boards more than him. O'Bannon fired the puck around the boards. The little black disc rolled around the curve, behind the net . . .

And was taken by another player from the River Otters.

"Dammit!" he hissed under his breath.

"Thanks, shrimp."

O'Bannon snapped his head around. Shaver gave him a cocky-ass grin and skated away.

The River Otter player tried to jam the puck in from the side of the net. Unken blocked him. More players from both sides converged. O'Bannon hustled over just as Simon DuPage, the Komets center, broke free of the scrum. He took off down the ice, the puck on his stick. O'Bannon skated after him down the right side of the rink. DuPage spotted him and passed the puck his way.

Too far. The puck zipped past him and hit against the boards.

O'Bannon raced after it. He gathered the puck and turned, searching for any of his teamma-

_WHAM!!_

The blow rocked every inch of his body. The world went out of focus. When his eyesight returned to normal, he saw Shaver skating away with the puck.

O'Bannon tried to suck down a breath. Instead all he could do was wheeze . . . barely.

_Keep playing! Keep playing!_

He skated after the River Otters. One of them blasted the puck at the net. The Komets goalie, Gabriel Unken, caught the puck with his glove. He held on to it until the referee blew his whistle, stopping play.

O'Bannon, along with the rest of his line, skated back to the bench. His legs felt like jelly. His back, his front, hell, _every part of his body _hurt. Never in all his years playing hockey at . . . that "other place" had he taken a hit that vicious.

_You've been hurt way worse than this. Like that time in England when you crashed your broom into that tree._

He held his breath, slowing a bit as he neared the bench.

_Forget about that life. It's over. This is your life now._

He climbed over the boards, grimacing as he did.

"You okay, Jimmy?" asked the stout, balding Coach Jacques Remelle.

"Fine, Coach." He gave him a "don't worry about it" wave. Like he really wanted to look like a wuss after his very first shift as a pro, especially such a suck-ass shift. Worry slithered through him. He'd given the puck back to Missouri twice. Would Coach Remelle send him back on the ice again?

He did. By that time the pain had become a distant memory. As the period went on, he made a few passes. Some good, some not so good, especially the one intercepted by Shaver – _Thank God that didn't turn into a goal._ He also took two shots on goal. One got turned away by a pad save, the other missed the net entirely.

When the first period ended, the score was knotted 1-1. O'Bannon headed back to the locker room with the rest of the Komets. His opening night jitters had been replaced by frustration, and more worry. His play had been less-than-stellar. Hell, he'd have to improve to get up to less-than-stellar. He pictured Coach Remelle bumping him down to the fourth line, the line that got the least amount of minutes in a game. And if he couldn't perform there . . . healthy scratch? Outright release? Crap, could he be unemployed by this time next week? And if he couldn't cut it in a minor-minor league like the UHL, what other team would want him?

His worries turned out to be unfounded, at least for the first intermission. Coach Remelle kept him on the second line, and hammered the team on the fact they needed to do a better job playing together.

The second period went a little better. O'Bannon batted away a puck in front of his goalie, and had two good clears on penalty kills. The Komets also scored, though he had nothing to do with that goal.

Shaver, however, outworked him on the boards, winning the puck in two battles, one of which required an elbow to the face.

"You gonna call that, ref?" O'Bannon pleaded to the black and white-striped official as Shaver skated off.

The man just shook his head and made quick circles with his right hand. Keep playing.

"Friggin' moron," he muttered under his breath, a coppery taste filling his mouth.

O'Bannon missed the rest of the second period as he went back to the locker room to have his bloody lip stitched up.

He returned for the third period. Every minute or so he rubbed his lips together, feeling the stitches. Anger rose inside him. He used it to fuel his determination to do whatever it took to beat Missouri.

O'Bannon took two more shots on net. Each time he got stoned by the goalie. He found more success on the penalty kill, clearing the puck twice and deflecting one shot away from the net. One of his passes did get intercepted, and that pissed him off.

The Komets tacked on two more goals, neither of which involved O'Bannon's line. With the score 4-1, play got chippy. A couple roughing calls here, a tripping penalty here, and since this was minor league hockey, one hellacious fight for good measure

A couple minutes after the fight, O'Bannon's line returned to the ice. The River Otters pushed up ice. He skated backwards, as did DuPage and one of the Komets defenseman, a tall Swede named Marko Fuhlson. One of the River Otters passed to another, who made a quick pass to another teammate. O'Bannon studied his opponent quickly, especially the man's eyes and how he held the stick. Pass or shoot? Which one would he do?

The guy passed it to another River Otter, who took the shot. Unken blocked it, but the puck trickled away in front of him.

O'Bannon rushed after it. So did all the other Komets and River Otters. Bodies crowded around him. He jabbed constantly with his stick. So did everyone else. Twice electric stings shot through his ankle as a stick struck him. He ignored the pain. Getting the puck was all the mattered.

Shoulders and elbows banged into him. He banged back, still ramming his stick through a multitude of legs.

_Get the puck! Get the damn puck!_

The whistle blew. He glanced through the knot of players and saw Unken on all fours, his glove hand pressed down on the ice. He guessed the puck must have gotten loose and Unken smothered it.

_All right. Good job –_

Someone shoved him. O'Bannon slid a couple feet before whipping around.

"Think you're some kind of bad-ass, shrimp?" Shaver glowered at him.

O'Bannon scowled and skated toward him. "More of a bad-ass than you. I know girls who hit harder."

Shaver's face twisted in anger. His hand shot up. O'Bannon's vision went dark as Shaver's pie-faced him. He knocked the asshole's arm away, then rammed his glove into Shaver's face.

Shaver thumped his shoulder. O'Bannon shoved a forearm into Shaver's face. His blood boiled. He grabbed Shaver's jersey with his left hand and dropped his right, trying to shake off his glove. The crowd roared wildly.

It was go time.

Black and white stripes suddenly filled his vision. The linesman shoved themselves between him and Shaver. A pair of hands clamped down on his shoulders, pushing him away from the irate Missouri defenseman.

"Both of you!" the referee barked. "Penalty box! Roughing!"

"What!?" He glared at the ref, then to the linesman, holding him back, then to the redfaced Shaver. O'Bannon clenched his fists, body shaking with fury . . . and no damn outlet for it!

"Let's go, O'Bannon." The linesman restraining him nodded toward the box.

Teeth bared, he growled and followed the friggin' linesman toward the sin bin.

"Hey!" Shaver, escorted by the other linesman, hollered across the ice. "Next time, I'm gonna own your ass!"

"Yeah!? Next time I'm gonna ram my fist down your friggin' throat!"

Shaver glowered at him as they both went into their respective penalty boxes.

By the time they were released, less than a minute remained in the game. Shaver streaked after the puck, ignoring him. Missouri failed to get another shot on net, and the Fort Wayne Komets got the win 4-1.

"Yeah!" O'Bannon pumped his fist. Simon and Marko skated up to him. The three exchanged high-fives and hugs before heading to center ice with the rest of the team. Standing in a circle, the Komet players raised their sticks in the air, saluting the crowd.

O'Bannon grinned from ear-to-ear as the cheers from the Fort Wayne fans swelled to deafening proportions. The screams of ten thousand people coursed through his veins like pure energy. It invigorated him, filled him with pure joy.

He didn't want to come off the ice. He wanted to stay here, soak up every single sensation of his first night as a pro.

Seconds later, the Komets began skating toward the exit. O'Bannon fell in with them, still smiling.

"Holy crap, man!" A beaming Simon skated up next to him. "Is this awesome or what?"

Like O'Bannon, Simon DuPage had also played his first game as a pro tonight after spending the last four years with Manhattanville College in New York.

"Awesome doesn't begin to describe this!" He grabbed Simon's shoulder and shook him. He looked around the arena as fans continued to clap and cheer.

"We gotta celebrate, man!" Simon pounded him on the back. "Get some wings, some beers, and have ourselves a good ol' time tonight!"

"I'm down with that!" The two high-fived as they headed into the locker room.

AC/DC's "You Shook Me All Night Long" pounded O'Bannon's ears as he went inside. The stale odor of sweat filled his nose. He exchanged more high-fives with smiling teammates on his way to his locker stall. After downing a bottle of Gatorade, he stripped off his sweat-soaked uniform and jumped in the shower.

Minutes later he was back at his stall, changing into his "civilian clothes."

"I'll tell ya." Simon ambled up to him. "I was sort of bummed out."

"What the hell are you talkin' about, 'bummed out?' We won the friggin' game."

"No, not about that. I wanted to see you and big guy Shaver go at it."

"Well so did I. Blame the stupid-ass linesmen for that."

"I do. You probably coulda taken him, too. I'm bettin' this wasn't the first time you went toe-to-toe with someone way bigger than you."

O'Bannon froze in the middle of shoving his right foot in his shoe. An image flashed through his mind. That day in the woods almost two years ago, when the giant attacked them. His insides tightened as he remembered the creature snatching him up, ready to crush the life out of him.

_If Rosa had gotten there a few seconds later . . ._

A chill went through his spine. He could clearly see the giant's hairy, ugly face, smell it foul breath, feel the pressure as it squeezed . . .

"Yo, Earth to Jimmy."

"Huh?" He blinked a couple times, refocusing on Simon.

"What's up? You looked kinda out of it there."

"Oh. Uh . . . it was . . . uh . . ." O'Bannon chewed on the inside of his cheek, trying to think of some lame excuse.

Crap! He couldn't believe that just suddenly popped into his head. Why couldn't that stuff just stay in the past?

"Uh, well . . ."

"Simon. Jimmy."

He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw Coach Remelle heading toward them.

"Good job tonight." He shook both their hands. "I know the pace of the game here is probably faster than where you played before, but you kept up well. Simon, you had some good checks out there. Jimmy, you had some good clears on the penalty kill, and you showed me you're not going to let anyone push you around."

"Thanks, Coach," they both replied.

"However . . ."

A nervous tingle went through O'Bannon. _I shoulda guessed there'd be a however._

"You both were way too quick on your shots and passes at times. You need to make better decisions, and see the ice better before you commit to a shot or a pass. Otherwise, like you saw, you're going to give the puck away to the other guys. We got away with it tonight, but we probably won't against some of the better teams in the league. You have to exercise patience. Do that, and you'll be making better passes to your linemates, and getting pucks in the back of the net. Got it?"

"Yes, Coach."

Coach Remelle gave them a brief smile. "All right. Good job, both of you. Now go celebrate . . . but not too much. We've got an image to maintain in the community."

"No worries there, Coach," O'Bannon said. "Bar fights and hookers aren't my thing."

Simon scoffed. "Who needs hookers? We're hockey players. The babes throw themselves at guys like us."

Coach chuckled.

O'Bannon started to, until another image flashed in his head. A tall blond woman speaking with a French accent.

He clenched a fist behind his back. _Stop thinking about that stuff. _

Coach shook their hands again and bid them good night. The two joined several of their teammates as they headed out of the locker room. After a few seconds of Q-and-A, the group decided to head to a sports bar and grill two blocks from the arena.

They went out a back exit leading to the players' parking lot. O'Bannon barely took three steps when cheers erupted nearby.

Several dozen people stood behind a row of wooden sawhorses, eyed by a pair of rather out of shape security guards.

"Ah, our adoring public." Simon grinned wide. "I can get used to this."

The Komet players waved to the fans and headed over to them.

"You guys rule!"

"Way to kick ass!"

"Can I have your autograph, please?"

O'Bannon increased his gait as he approached the fans. He remembered years ago when he waited in line for Bruins great Ray Bourque's autograph. He'd been out of his mind with excitement. And now these folks were excited to get his autograph. _His autograph!_ Some guy playing minor league hockey in the middle of Indiana.

_This is the coolest job in the world._

Job? Like playing hockey was a job. This was his passion. This was what he'd been born to do.

He thoroughly enjoyed mingling with the fans, signing programs, T-shirts, ballcaps, miniature sticks.

"O'Bannon. Yeah, you were gonna beat the snot out of that one guy before the refs stopped it," said one bearded, middle-aged fan. "Damn, that looked like it would have been one hell of a fight."

"Well, maybe I can get a rematch next time we face these guys." He grinned at the man.

Wide-eyed little kids handed him all sorts of stuff, and jumped for joy when he signed it. A trio of very hot college girls giggled and blushed as he signed their T-Shirts.

He continued signing autographs and chatting with fans, not wanting this to end.

"Excuse me. Excuse me, sir?" A portly brunette who looked in her mid-thirties waved to him.

"Yes, ma'am?"

"I was wondering, could my son take a picture of you?"

"Sure. No problem."

The woman stepped aside. A small boy with mousy brown hair and an excited smile appeared, clutching a camera that looked as big as his face.

"Hi." The kid bounced on the balls of his feet. "My name's Tommy. I always get photos of all the players every year. One time, I used them for one of those collages for a class project, and I got an A on it."

Paralysis clutched O'Bannon. He stared unblinking at the little boy. That smile, that overly excited demeanor, that camera.

_Oh my God. No way. _

The kid looked like a spitting image of Colin Creevey.

"Tommy, enough." The woman gently scolded him. "I'm sure this young man is very busy. Take his picture and let him be on his way."

"Oh. Okay. Sorry, Mom. You ready, Mister, um . . ."

"O'Bannon. J-Jimmy O'Bannon." He kept staring at Tommy. Though in his mind's eye, he saw Colin Creevey, bopping around Hogwarts with that constant smile, working hard to cast a counter charm on those _POTTER STINKS _buttons, running around with that big-ass camera of his.

Lying dead in the Great Hall. Along with all the others.

Tonks.

Mr. Lupin.

Fred.

His friends. His comrades. A former lover.

Dead.

A bright flash consumed his vision. He blinked a couple times and looked down at the grinning Tommy. He barely heard the boy and his mother thank him. O'Bannon just nodded, memories of his time in England bombarding his mind. Taking part in pranks with Fred. Making love to Tonks.

_Stop it. This is why you're here. To forget about all that._

_How can I forget about them? They were my friends._

_Why did they have to die? Why?_

_Why, dammit!?_

"Jimmy." Someone whacked him on the shoulder.

He turned to find Simon standing next to him. His linemate gave him a perplexing stare, then said, "Hey, we're ready to get out of here."

"Huh? Oh yeah. Yeah, good. I'm ready."

While the other players said good-bye to the fans and apologized to the ones they couldn't get to for autographs, O'Bannon headed for his car. He pressed the base of his palm against his head, trying to rid himself of memories of dead friends.

But Fred's grinning face floated through his mind's eye.

Then he pictured Tonks. My God, he could still feel her body pressed against his, still savor the taste of her lips as they kissed.

Another memory hit him. The night he got Ginny's letter, informing him of both Fred's and Tonks' deaths.

A lump formed in his throat. He almost broke into a run to get to his car. He couldn't get to the bar fast enough to start drinking, and keep drinking until he forgot about that other life.

_**TO BE CONTINUED**_

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **_The Fort Wayne Komets are an actual minor league hockey team, and do spell their name with a "K" instead of a "C"._


	45. All Alone In The Night

**CHAPTER 45: ALL ALONE IN THE NIGHT**

* * *

_So much for "peacetime."_

Rosa Infante stood against the wall of the alley, a Camouflage Charm cast over her. She focused on a window, third row, fourth from the left. That's where their quarry lived. Kelvin Pineweather, age forty-three. Five-ten, two-thirty pounds – none of it muscular, judging by his photograph. Occupation, maker of magical clocks. Alleged offense, creating two cursed Cuckoo Clocks that put seven people into comas from which they had yet to recover.

_If they ever do._

She rubbed her thumb up and down her wand. The war may be over, but that didn't mean an end to bad witches and wizards. And this Pineweather SOB definitely qualified as a bad wizard. One of those in a coma was only seven-years-old. Seven! Rosa wished she'd been picked for the entry team instead of being stuck in the alley. She'd love to take down this slimebucket with a Stunning Spell, a very powerful Stunning Spell, one which would "accidentally" nail him in the balls. It was the least she could do for his victims before he got shipped off to some dank hole of a prison cell for the rest of his miserable life.

But no. Instead she got stuck covering the back. Aurors Billington and DeSaul would have all the fun and –

Muffled shouts caught her attention. She stiffened, bringing up her wand.

Sharp crackles from spells and hexes filtered through the window. Rosa held her breath, hoping the two other aurors were all right. Wondering if –

The window exploded. A pudgy wizard with unkempt dark gray hair stood on the ledge, straddling a broom.

"FREEZE!!" Rosa's magically amplified voice boomed through the alley.

Pineweather's head snapped down. Even from this distance she could see the panic in his face.

He leaped out of the window.

Rosa cast a Stunning Spell. The red bolt struck the rear of the broom. It wobbled left and right. Pineweather gasped, trying to right himself.

A bolt shot out the broken window. The bristles of the broom transfigured into a large brick.

Pineweather screamed as the broom dropped into the alley. A thud and two snaps filled the confined space. The wizard rolled from side to side over his shattered broom, clutching his leg and howling in pain.

Ropes flew from Rosa's wand and ensnared Pineweather. She summoned the dark wizard's wand over to her before approaching him, her Camouflage Charm dispersing.

"My leg!" Pineweather cried. "My leg!"

"I don't give a crap about your leg!" Rosa glared at him, wand aimed at his head.

_Crack! Crack!_

A beefy man with a bushy brown-gray mustache and a skinny dark-haired man with a narrow face Disapparated next to Rosa. Aurors Billington and DeSaul.

"Good work, Auror Infante," Billington complimented her in his usual gruff voice.

"Thanks. You, too."

Billington turned to DeSaul. "Send a Patronus to Lockman. Tell him we have Pineweather and he can come down."

Seconds later an ethereal border collie Patronus soared into the air to contact Lockman, the auror who had been circling over Ovenderburg to cut off any aerial escape by Pineweather.

"Kelvin Pineweather," Billington said. "By order of the Aurors Bureau, you are under arrest for cursing seven witches and wizards."

"I'm sorry!" he whined. "I'm sorry! Please forgive me! No one ever appreciated my work. I just snapped. Please, I'm sorry."

"I'm sure that's going to make the seven people lying in comas feel much better." Rosa scowled at him.

A lean young wizard with an angular face hovered down to them on his broom. Auror Lockman, just two years older than Rosa, stared at the scene, disappointment radiating from his face. He no doubt wanted a piece of the action.

After casting more security charms on Pineweather, the group Apparated to the Aurors Bureau's regional office in Boston. They processed Pineweather and stuck him in a holding cell, where he'd remain until his trial.

"Well, chalk one up for the good guys," Rosa said triumphantly as the four of them walked up the stairs from the basement, where the Aurors Bureau kept their prisoners.

Billington grunted. "There are plenty of dark wizards and witches out there even worse than Pineweather."

"Ha! Don't I know it." She shrugged. "Still, that's one less scumbag out there. Say, I've got an idea. Why don't we go out and celebrate?"

Billington looked over his shoulder. "Celebrate this? We did what we're paid to do. Nothing special."

"Okay, maybe. Still, we've been working together since I got here last month. I think we should spend a little time together outside of work. Get to know one another."

"Sorry, but I have a wife, and dinner, to get home to. I'll see you tomorrow."

Billington turned and marched up the stairs.

Rosa frowned briefly, then looked at the remaining aurors. "So how about you two? You game?"

"Sure, I'll go," DeSaul said enthusiastically.

Lockman's eyes shifted between Rosa and DeSaul. "Um . . . uh, well. Uhhh, okay."

"Great. How does the Warlock's Watering Hole sound?"

Both aurors nodded.

Ten minutes later the three sat at a rickety wooden table inside the tavern in Ovenderburg.

"Three ales, on me," Rosa called out to the barkeep.

"Wow, thanks," said DeSaul.

"Don't mention it. Besides, I assume it falls on the new girl to buy the first round."

DeSaul chuckled softly. Lockman just stared down at the table.

"So, um, good bust today, huh, guys?"

DeSaul cocked an eyebrow at her. "Bust?"

"Oh, sorry. That's what they call an arrest in Muggle police shows."

"You've watched Muggle TV before?"

"Sure. Lots of times. That's what happens when you have a Muggle-born for a best friend."

"Oh, that's right." DeSaul nodded. "Jimmy O'Bannon. I have to say, I still can't believe some of the stuff you guys did during the war. Sneaking into Hogwarts over in England, fighting altered Chupacabra, and of course, Helghorst Island. I wish I could have been there."

"Trust me, you don't." A serious tone crept into Rosa's voice. "That was a scary day. Spells and curses flying all over the place, Death Eaters fighting tooth and nail in the sky." She bit her lower lip for a moment. "I also lost quite a few friends there."

DeSaul swallowed. "Oh, um, right. Sorry."

Three mugs of frothy ale suddenly appeared in front of them. DeSaul took a sip of his, then said, "So, um, you still keep in touch with Jimmy O'Bannon?"

Rosa flexed her hand around the handle of her mug. "Not . . . not really. He actually decided to return to the Muggle World."

DeSaul drew his head back in puzzlement. "What for?"

"He wanted to play hockey."

"What's that?"

She gave the auror a brief description of the game, adding that Salem actually had a hockey league, which she had played for.

"Hey, Lockman." DeSaul turned to the other auror. "You're Muggle-born. Did you ever play this hockey game?"

Lockman frowned. "No. Um, sorry." He looked at Rosa when he said that. "I just . . . well, I was never much into sports growing up. Sorry."

"That's okay." Rosa sipped her ale and leaned forward. "So what other Muggle stuff do you like to do?"

Lockman stared at her in silence for several seconds. His face seemed to pale. "Um . . . uh, well, if I can be honest with you, Auror Infante."

"Oh cut the 'Auror Infante' stuff. We're off-duty. It's just Rosa."

"Okay. Sorry. Um, well, actually, my . . . my parents never really accepted me being a wizard. I . . . I haven't spoken to them in almost four years. So, I really don't have anything to go back to in the Muggle World, and no reason to do Muggle things. S-Sorry"

"You don't have anything to apologize for. I'm sorry things are like that between you and your family." Rosa felt her face sag. She thought of Artimus, how he was in the same boat with a father and two brothers who refused to acknowledge his existence.

"You know, I had a Muggle-born friend when I was going to school," DeSaul jumped in. "He invited me over to his place one summer and played some really cool music like Pearl . . . Pearl, um, Pearl something and the Red Peppers, or something like that."

Rosa worked her jaw back and forth. "Mm, nope. Sorry. I don't recall Jimmy talking about any bands like that."

"Oh." DeSaul tapped a finger on the side of his mug. "Um, well, my Muggle-born friend also had a, um, what was it called? Oh yeah, a _bill-reds _table in his basement. You ever play _bill-reds?_ And he took me to this place that had this drink that's like ice cream, only it's really not."

"You mean a milkshake?"

"Yeah! Yeah, that's it. You ever have one of those. They're good, aren't they?"

Rosa's brow furrowed. She leaned back in her chair, studying DeSaul's face. The guy seemed eager for her to agree with him. What did it matter to him whether or not she liked Muggle milkshakes? Come to think of it, what did it matter if she agreed with him on anything? DeSaul had been with the Aurors Bureau for five years. He didn't need to impress a witch with only a month's worth of experience.

Unless he was just trying way too hard to get under her robes.

Or unless . . .

"Can I ask you guys something?"

"Sure," DeSaul responded.

"Um, okay," Lockman muttered.

Rosa folded her hands and leaned forward. "Are you guys here because you want to get to know me better, or because I happen to share the same last name with the witch who runs the Aurors Bureau and the wizard who happens to be Secretary of Magic?"

DeSaul's eyes widened. Lockman found something interesting on the floor to look at.

"Um . . . uh . . ." DeSaul's eyes flickered in all directions, except Rosa's. "Well, it's not . . . I mean, you see . . ."

Rosa snorted and pushed herself against the back of her chair. "I don't believe this. All I wanted to do was get to know the people I work with better, the people I have to depend on to watch my back. Instead, what? You think if you suck up to me it'll help your careers? Or do you think if you said no to coming here with me I'd run to my mother and cry how none of the other aurors want to be my friends?"

"Um . . . uh . . ." DeSaul just stared at her, mouth agape.

Rosa shook her head and got to her feet.

"We're sorry," Lockman blurted. "You're not gonna tell your mother, are you?"

She groaned and rolled her eyes. "Merlin's beard, you two are pathetic."

She took one long, last swallow of her ale and stomped off. "I'll see you at work tomorrow."

Rosa shoved open the door, took a few steps onto the dirt road, and Apparated. A couple minutes later she entered her little apartment in Boston's Milmothryn Market.

"Dammit!" She slammed the door shut, pacing up and down her small living room, trying without much success to calm herself.

She rubbed the back of her head. Merlin, this pissed her off. Is that how everyone in regional office saw her? Not as a person, but as the daughter of the Secretary of Magic and the Director of the Aurors Bureau?

_Then again, why should I be surprised? Isn't that what happened during auror training?_

But she passed it. Her parents didn't make her an auror. She earned it. And she proved herself a more than capable witch during the war. Ovenderburg. England. The Appalachians. Helghorst Island. Didn't any of that matter to anyone?

Apparently not.

Rosa folded her arms and just stood in the middle of the living room. Would she ever have any actual friends in the Aurors Bureau? Would anyone who acted like a friend only be doing it to curry favor with her parents?

_I just want what I had with Jared, Jimmy and Artimus._

She drew a long breath and walked over to a row of pictures on the wall. Her eyes jumped from one image to another. Her, Jared and Jimmy in their Blazenrowe Hall hockey uniforms. Her and Jared at their graduation from Salem. The quartet sitting on a couch in the Blazenrowe Hall parlor, laughing at something. The four of them sitting around a Christmas tree at her parents' house.

"What happened to us?" she whispered to herself, still gazing at the photos. For ten years they had been there for each other. In Jared's case, they'd been by one another's side since they were in diapers. They weren't just her friends. They were her brothers. The war, as horrible as it had been, actually brought them closer together.

So how was it "peacetime" could break them up?

She missed being part of such a tight knit little group, missed having those boys come to her for comfort or advice when things got hard, or having one of them to go to when she had a problem. She missed needling Jared, missed having Jimmy as a source of strength. Sure, she kept in touch with Artimus, and her heart warmed as his relationship with Jenna grew more and more serious. But as much as she loved Artimus, she wanted, _needed, _all four of them to be together. They'd always been at their best when they were together.

But how could that happen with Jared and Jimmy in their stupid, self-imposed exiles?

In addition, things hadn't improved with her family. Her relationship with her parents remained strained. Uncle Irving had turned completely anti-social, and Esteban and Oriana seemed at a loss on how to deal with it.

Hell, she didn't even have a boyfriend! Merlin's beard, at Salem there'd never been a shortage of guys who wanted to ask her out. But in the three-plus years since she graduated, she'd only been in one relationship, that being with George Weasley.

One boyfriend in three years.

Rosa plopped down on her couch. She drew her knees to her chin and hugged her legs, staring blankly at the opposite wall.

For the first time in her life, she felt truly alone.

_**TO BE CONTINUED**_


	46. A Less Than Merry Christmas

**CHAPTER 46: A LESS-THAN MERRY CHRISTMAS**

* * *

Apprehension gripped Rosa as she neared Uncle Irving's house. She clutched the handle of her broom tighter. What sort of mood would he be in? Would he be happy to see her? Indifferent? Would he even let her in the house?

She wondered if she should have let her mother take this food basket over to him. But no. She had to see for herself how he was doing.

Plus, she just needed to get out of her parents' house. The usual Infante/Diaz Christmas Day gathering just didn't feel the same without certain familiar faces there.

Aunt Liana.

Jared.

Some years Jimmy and his parents dropped by, though not this year.

She also had to get away from her elderly Aunt Josefina, who felt an incessant need to pry into her personal life.

"_Are you seeing anybody . . . No . . . any prospects . . . Oh, Rosa, dear. How can a pretty young thing like you still be alone? Why, before I was your age, I was already married and had my first child."_

Rosa grunted, trying to wipe the conversation from her mind as she landed in her uncle's snow covered yard. She untied the basket from the back of her broom, walked up to the front door, and knocked.

Five seconds passed. Ten seconds. The door remained closed.

_Come on, Uncle Irving. _

She knocked again.

Five seconds passed. Ten sec-

The door opened.

Rosa held her breath, taking in the man before her.

Uncle Irving stared back at her with a sullen, unshaven face. He stood with a slight stoop, and seemed to have lost more weight.

"M-Merry Christmas, Uncle Irving."

A brief smile crossed his lips. "Hi, Rosa. Merry Christmas. What brings you here?"

"Oh. Um, we just wanted to give you this food basket. It's got roast duck, yams, stuffing, harvest pie. Since you're not over . . . well, we just wanted you to have something."

Silence hung between them. Rosa bit her lower lip, anxiousness spreading through her. She prayed Uncle Irving would invite her in.

Slowly, he worked his jaw back and forth, as if mentally debating with himself.

"Thanks. That's nice of you. Um, why don't you come in?"

A jolt of happiness shot through her. _This is a good sign._

She walked in and looked around the living room. The veins in her neck stuck out. Parchment and unopened letters lay in heaps on coffee tables. Dust coated window sills and picture frames. Her eyes locked on the small table next to the easy chair. Two items rested it. A photo album and a half-empty bottle of fire whiskey.

She felt more than saw Uncle Irving shuffle next to her. She looked up at him, pushing down the lump that threatened to form in her throat.

"Um, I'll just put this in the kitchen. Okay?"

"That'll be fine."

She gave him a quick smile and headed for the kitchen, where she put the basket on the table, which really needed a good cleaning. Hell, the whole house needed a good cleaning.

When she returned to the living room, Uncle Irving sat slouched in his easy chair, the photo album in his lap.

"Um, how are you doing, Uncle Irving?"

"I'm fine."

Rosa's face crinkled. _Like hell._

"So, how's life in at the Auror's Bureau?" he asked.

"It's good. Busier than I expected, I mean, with the war over and everything."

"Mm." Uncle Irving nodded, then picked up the fire whiskey bottle and took a swig.

Her jaw clenched. More than anything, she wanted to tell him to put down the bottle. Getting drunk wouldn't solve any of his problems. But this was a man who had battled almost every dangerous creature in the Wizarding World. She doubted he'd take well to his niece acting like his mother. Besides, she had an opening with him, and didn't want to do anything to jeopardize it.

"You got my present, didn't you?"

"Yes." Uncle Irving nodded. _"Renaldus' Book of Magical Records. _Looks like an interesting read. Thank you."

He turned back to the photo album.

Rosa's shoulders sagged. She strode over to him. "Uncle Irving, why don't you come back to our house? The whole family's there, and to be honest, I can't stand the thought of you spending Christmas alone."

"I'll be fine."

"But, Uncle -"

"Rosa." He cut her off. "I'm sorry. But going over there, thinking of all those other Christmases, and not having . . . not having Liana there. Plus, there are, well, other issues."

Her lips tightened. She knew exactly what those other issues were. Uncle Irving still hadn't forgiven her mother for recommending he be relieved as leader of SMACRAT.

He lowered his head and opened the album, flipping through a few pages. Rosa walked behind the chair and stared down over his shoulder. She felt a hitch in her breath as her eyes fixed on a photo of a much younger Irving Diaz, smiling and wearing dress robes, and standing next to Aunt Liana, who wore a beautiful white wedding gown. A quiver went through her stomach as she watched her late aunt beam as Uncle Irving wrapped an arm around her waist. She snuggled against him, her smile growing wider.

Seeing that photo made it hard for her to believe Aunt Liana was really dead.

Uncle Irving flipped through some more pages. He gave a soft moan when he came to a photo of Aunt Liana kneeling next to Rosa and Jared, who couldn't have been more than two. She couldn't help but wince staring at her much younger self, with that flat hair and those pudgy cheeks. Like most people, she hated looking at photos of herself as a little kid. Not that she'd say anything right now, not when this photo might be making her uncle happy.

Uncle Irving turned to more photos. Aunt Liana, her and Jared sitting at the kitchen table for Jared's fourth birthday. Her around age six, laughing and waving from the back of Aunt Liana's broom as they flew just a few feet off the ground. Her at age ten, Jared next to her, and a smiling Aunt Liana behind them before they departed for the first time on the _Salem Schooner_.

"You remember that one Christmas when you were, oh, you must have been about six?" Uncle Irving just stared across the living room as he spoke to her. "Liana made these cookies in the shape of stars, with big smiling faces and rosy red cheeks. She gave you one, you looked at it, and said, 'This cookie's wimpy.'"

Rosa quietly laughed. "Yeah. Yeah, I remember."

"Your parents were, well, not too pleased with that comment. Liana, on the other hand, got a kick out of it. You remember the next Christmas? She made the star cookies again, only these ones she made them scowl and flex their big muscular arms."

"Yeah, those were the coolest cookies."

"After you went home, Liana said to me, 'that girl already has the makings to be a damn good auror.'"

Uncle Irving rotated his head and craned his neck to look Rosa in the eye. He then reached up with his right hand. She took it and squeezed.

"She was always so proud of you," he said. "You know that, don't you?"

Tears stung the corners of her eyes. "Yeah. I know." She gripped his hand tighter. "Uncle Irving, please come back to the house with me."

He sighed audibly and frowned. "I'm sorry. I just can't . . . maybe some other time, but right now, I'm just not up to it."

Rosa grinded her teeth. She swallowed, trying to keep herself from crying. Had this been Jared or Jimmy wallowing in self-pity, she would have levitated their asses back to the house, and threaten to hex them if they bitched about it. Her uncle, however . . . no matter how much she wanted to help him, she couldn't bring herself to use such a strong arm tactic.

Anger boiled inside her. Anger at her mother, for taking away the one thing that would have kept Uncle Irving going after Aunt Liana's death. Anger at her father. He was the friggin' Secretary of Magic. He could reinstate Uncle Irving with the snap of his fingers.

But no. Instead they both seemed content to let him waste away.

"Um, Uncle Irving. Would you mind if I use your fireplace to Floo out of here?"

He turned to her, cocking an eyebrow. "Floo? I thought you came here by broom."

"Yeah, I did. But I promised Artimus I'd visit him today, and, well, since I'm here . . ." She didn't want to tell him the real reason she wanted to Floo from here. If she went back home and looked at her parents, she might say something that would spark an argument. She didn't feel like having the entire family witness that.

"Sure," Uncle Irving answered. "That's fine."

"Thanks. Merry Christmas." She bent down and hugged him.

"Merry Christmas, sweetie."

Rosa backed away, jaw tightened as she watched her uncle settle deeper into his easy chair. He gave her one last, quick smile before turning his attention back to the photo album.

Rosa lowered her head, her shoulders sagging as she headed over to the fireplace. She snatched some Floo powder from the urn on the mantle, and looked back at Uncle Irving. He stared intently at a page in the photo album.

She sighed, wishing she could dive into one of those photos, preferably one where she was little. Back when things were happier, simpler.

But no amount of magic in the world could accomplish that.

_**TO BE CONTINUED**_


	47. Wishful Thinking

**CHAPTER 47: WISHFUL THINKING**

* * *

"I did it! I finally beat the moss monster!"

Samantha Fabrici raised her arms in triumph.

"Good job, Sam." Artimus applauded his girlfriend's little sister as tiny wisps of smoke rose from the game board on the kitchen table. "That's probably the hardest part of this game."

"I know. Every time we play _Bog of Doom_ at Fantimoor, that stupid thing always gets me. But not this time." She jabbed a finger at the smoldering pile that had been the moss monster.

Jenna Fabrici just sat back in her chair. "I swear, this game's like a demented version of _Candyland."_

"Of what?" Artimus' face scrunched in puzzlement.

"Oh, it's a Muggle board game. But it didn't have moss monsters or mud pits or bog people. Just a molasses swamp."

"They had a real molasses swamp?"

Jenna grinned and rolled her eyes. "No, of course they didn't. It was just painted on the board. Your pieces couldn't sink in it or get carried off by weird creatures like in this game."

"That's what makes it so cool." Samantha whipped her head toward him. "Thank you so much for getting me this, Artimus."

"Sure. I'm glad you're enjoying it."

"You mind if we pause it here. I gotta go to the bathroom."

"No problem. We'll wait up."

Samantha smiled, then pulled out her wand and tapped the game board. _"Subsisto."_

The figurines on the board froze. The mud pits stop bubbling. Even the mist hung frozen in the air. Samantha got up and headed out of the kitchen of Artimus' apartment.

The moment she was out of sight, he felt Jenna's hand grasping his. He turned to his girlfriend, who gave him a warm smile.

"As gross as this game is," she said, "I'm glad she loves it so much. I think you really made her Christmas."

"Thanks." Artimus gave a small, shy shrug. He ran his thumb along Jenna's fingers, then stared past her at the garland strung along the kitchen walls. His eyes continued to roam around his apartment, taking in the big paper snowflakes floating overhead, the wreath on his ice box, and just beyond the kitchen, the Christmas tree in the living room. It all looked so nice, so cheerful. He even felt cheerful, an emotion he'd never experienced much on this particular holiday.

_But it would be better if . . ._

His gaze fell to the table. The corner of his mouth twisted as memories bombarded his mind, some pleasant, most, unfortunately, unpleasant.

"Artimus? Artimus? You still with me?"

"Huh?" His head snapped up. "Oh, um, sorry."

Jenna cocked an eyebrow. "Something's on your mind. What is it?"

"Um, just . . . just thinking about all those Christmases with my family. It always felt so impersonal. We never did anything like this. Sit at a table, play a board game, have any sort of fun. Merlin, sometimes it felt like my father looked at Christmas as an inconvenience. It's just nice to have a Christmas we can actually enjoy. But I still wish . . ." He sighed, slouching slightly in his seat.

Jenna grasped his hand tighter. "You wish Hector was here."

Surprise jolted him. His jaw stiffened as he stared right into Jenna's eyes. An airy feeling spread through his chest. Jenna had become very good at reading him after being together for over a year.

"I know how you feel," she continued. "I can't tell you how many times today I thought about my parents. Hell, how many times I've thought about them this month, every time I saw a Christmas tree or put up decorations or wrapped presents. It is true, you know, what they say. When people you care about die, you miss them more during holidays like this."

A quiver went through Artimus. He swallowed as Jenna closed her eyes and lowered her head. He slid his chair closer to her and placed a hand on her left leg, gently rubbing it up and down.

She looked back up at him, sighing. "Sorry. It's just . . ."

"You don't have to apologize for that, Jenna. More than anything I wish your parents were here. Hector, too." He grinned as he pictured the scene in his head. "It'd be like a real family Christmas."

Jenna patted his hand. "Well, we do have each other, and Samantha. I don't know, I think that qualifies us as a real family."

A knot formed in Artimus' stomach. He sat frozen, just staring at Jenna. There was something about the look in her face, the tone in her voice, when she said the word "family."

_Could she be thinking . . ._

A loud _whoosh _erupted from the living room. He and Jenna just got to their feet when they heard a familiar voice.

"Art? Hey, Art. Jenna? You guys there?"

They strode over to the fireplace, which spewed green flames. Within those flames hovered the face of Rosa Infante.

"Hey, Rosa," Artimus said. "Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas to you, too. I just wanted to give you a heads-up that I'm on my way."

Joy burst inside him. He had sent out a few invitations to his little Christmas gathering, hopeful that even one person would stop by, even for a little while. He was glad one of his best friends had taken him up on his invitation.

Seconds later, Rosa walked through the flames and into his living room. A huge smile formed on her face as she wrapped Artimus up in a tight hug.

"It's good to see you again," she said.

"You, too."

Rosa let him go and hugged Jenna. "You guys enjoying your Christmas?"

"You better believe it."

"You got my gift?"

"Oh yeah." Jenna nodded. "The little knickknack that let's you know it's time to refresh the wards around your home. Trust an auror to give a gift like that."

"Hey, I love you guys and want to make sure you're safe."

"Well I'm glad you could make it." Artimus beamed at her. "I know you're always busy with your family on Christmas."

"Don't worry about it. It's not a big deal if I sneak out for a few minutes to see you guys."

The smile faded from Rosa's face. Her gaze drifted to the floor.

"Um . . ." Artimus bit his lip for a moment. "Is, um, is everything okay with your family?"

"Heh! Okay is a relative term. I mean, I didn't get into any arguments with my parents. Uncle Irving actually let me in his house to see him. I even had a sort of normal conversation with him. But it's just . . . I don't know. Things don't feel the same at Christmas time with Aunt Liana gone."

Artimus sighed, wishing he could think of something to say to make Rosa feel better. He still found it hard to believe that things had become so bad for her family. The couple times his father had allowed him to go to the Infantes' for their Christmas get-together, he'd been floored by the joyous atmosphere, the genuine feeling of love and kinship the Diazes and Infantes exhibited toward one another. So unlike his own family. Much as he hated to admit it, there had been times when he'd been jealous of Rosa's family, how close they all were. Why couldn't he have a family like that?

His gaze drifted toward Jenna. An airy feeling spread through his insides as he studied her beautiful face, thought about what it felt like to hold her in his arms, to kiss her, to make love to her, to have someone he could talk to about anything.

_Maybe we could . . ._

"So have you heard from Jared?" asked Jenna, breaking his train of thought.

Rosa smiled, but the smile soon devolved into a frown. "Yeah. He actually Floo Called all of us yesterday. It was nice to hear from him again, but . . . I don't know, he just didn't seem happy."

"Does he want to come home?"

Rosa shrugged in response to Jenna's inquiry. "He didn't say one way or another. Merlin's beard, I don't think even he knows what he wants."

"What about Jimmy?" Hope tinged Artimus' voice. "Have you heard anything from him?"

The skin around Rosa's nose crinkled. "Not a word. From him, anyway. I did get a Christmas card from his parents."

"So did I. They said he was playing hockey in Fort Wayne."

"Yeah. It would have been nice if he told us that himself."

Artimus worked his jaw back and forth, trying to come up with a response.

That's when Samantha walked into the living room.

"Rosa!" Her face lit up. "Oh my gosh, you're here! Merry Christmas."

"Back at ya, kiddo." Rosa smiled wide – though Artimus felt it was partly for Samantha's benefit – as she hugged Jenna's sister.

"Did you see what Artimus got me?"

"No, I didn't. What did he get you?"

"_The Bog of Doom."_

Rosa's eyes widened. "No way. Merlin's beard, we used to play that game all the time when we were in school." She glanced at Artimus. "Remember that one night, during our Sixth Year, a whole bunch of us stayed up till about four in the morning playing _Bog of Doom_."

"Really?" Samantha's jaw dropped.

Jenna's lips twisted. "Please, don't give her any ideas."

"Relax, Jenna. We did it after finals."

Jenna's eyes shifted from Rosa to Samantha, still not convinced that playing _Bog of Doom _into the wee hours of the morning was a good thing any time.

"Come on." Samantha nodded toward the kitchen. "You wanna see?"

"Sure." Rosa nodded enthusiastically.

The two just crossed the threshold from the living room to the kitchen when someone knocked on the door.

"I'll get it." Artimus went over to the door and opened it. Before him stood a tall woman with long blond hair and a square-jawed man with dark hair.

"Mireet!"

"Hello, Artimus. Merry Christmas."

"I'm glad you could make it," he said as they hugged.

"How could I not visit one of my dear friends on this day? Oh. Let me introduce you to my boyfriend. Artimus, this is Alain Durand."

"Um, hi." Artimus stuck out his hand, trying, and failing, to force a smile. It just didn't seem right, for Mireet to be calling someone other than Jimmy her boyfriend.

"Hello." Alain shook his hand, and almost immediately let go.

The abrupt greeting put him off. He studied the Frenchman, noting his unsmiling face, his sullen expression. Alain looked like he didn't want to be here.

He stepped aside to let them enter. Mireet greeted and hugged everyone, and introduced them to her unhappy-looking boyfriend.

"I love how you have decorated your apartment." Mireet rotated her head left to right. "It is all so beautiful."

"Thanks." Artimus smiled at her. "But to be honest, the credit goes to Jenna."

"Oh please. I just gave you suggestions. You were the one who waved his wand and made it all happen."

Everyone chuckled, except Alain. He just stared at the carpet.

Artimus sighed to himself. He couldn't understand it. Mireet was such a warm, considerate, lively person. And this Alain . . .

_Maybe I'm just catching him on a bad day._

"Can we get you guys anything?" asked Jenna. "We've got plenty of food, like -"

"Nothing for us," Alain cut her off. "Mireet and I are attending a Christmas feast at Ambassador Beliveau's residence. Therefore, we can't stay very long."

Mireet turned to Alain, the smile vanishing from her face. Her eyelids lowered, and her head drooped.

The veins in Jenna's neck stuck out, as if she could sense the tension between the two. "Um, well, that's okay. I can get you something to drink. I've got plenty of eggnog, my own personal recipe. And if you want, I can give it a little extra kick, if you know what I mean."

"I will take some, please," Mireet said.

"Same here." Rosa held up her hand. "And feel free to give mine _a lot_ of extra kick."

"Do you have anything else to drink besides eggnog?" asked Alain.

"Yeah. We've got plenty of stuff in the fridge. Why don't you follow me into the kitchen and pick out what you want. Oh, Art? Sam? Anything for you two?"

"Nothing for me, hon." Artimus shook his head.

"I'll have some butterbeer, please."

"All right. I'll be back in a bit. Make yourselves at home." Jenna waved them toward the couches and chairs as she and Alain headed into the kitchen.

Mireet sat on one of the couches, Rosa plopping down next to her.

"So . . ." She scooted closer to the French witch. "How long have you two been together?"

"Over five months now."

"Things going well for you guys?"

Mireet took a noticeable pause before answering. _"Oui. _Things are well between us. Alain is very sweet, and he is going to be very successful in the Aurors Directorate. He is a very goal-oriented person."

Artimus leaned forward a little, waiting for Mireet to continue. The longer her silence lasted, the more surprised he felt. He expected her to gush on and on about what a wonderful person Alain was, just like Rosa did at Salem when she got a new boyfriend. He thought back to those times at the dinner table or in Blazenrowe Hall when she'd ramble on about how handsome and how funny and how nice and how smart her new guy was.

There was none of that from Mireet.

Rosa seemed to pick that up, too. She frowned when Mireet did not go on more about Alain.

"So what does he like to do, I mean, when he's not busy being an auror?" Rosa probed.

"Well, he likes to read. He is always eager to improve his spellwork. In fact, he has taught me many good spells, ones I never even imagined existed when I was going to Beauxbatons."

"Is he into sports?" Rosa went on. "Quidditch? Quodpot? Wizards Chess?"

"Unfortunately, no." Mireet frowned briefly. "Alain considers games a waste of time."

The comment stunned Artimus. Mireet had been an excellent athlete during her school days, as a beater for her Quidditch team at Beauxbatons and as a winger for Jimmy's Triad hockey team at Hogwarts. He figured she'd want a boyfriend who shared her love of sports. It made him wonder if Mireet and Alain had any common interests.

Speaking of Alain, he returned to the living room, following Jenna, who carried a tray full of drinks. Artimus curled his lip, seeing the Frenchmen carrying a glass of water for himself.

_He could have levitated all those drinks for Jenna._

Drinks in hand, everyone dove into conversation. Samantha talked about all the presents she got, especially _The Bog of Doom. _Rosa regaled the room with more stories of playing the game at Salem. Mireet complimented Jenna on her eggnog "with a kick."

"I think I should have another one before we leave.

"Now, Mireet," Alain spoke for the first time in many minutes. "It wouldn't be very seemly to arrive at the Ambassador's home already intoxicated."

"I will be fine, Alain," she replied with a bit of an edge.

Jenna cleared her throat. "So, um, a Christmas party at your Ambassador's place. That sounds like it will be fun."

"Highly unlikely," replied Alain. "But it is necessary if one wishes to advance at our Ministry. Your skills can only take you so far. You must acquaint yourself with the right people. I've said this to Mireet. Being an assistant to the Ambassador is a nice starting point, but not something one would want to do forever, especially someone with the organizational and translation skills Mireet possesses."

"_Oui." _Mireet offered a weak smile.

"Speaking of the Ambassador's party . . ." Alain drained the rest of his water. "We should be going. We would not make a good impression by arriving late."

Mireet finished her eggnog and got to her feet. "Thank you for inviting us. It was wonderful to see you all again. Merry Christmas."

She hugged them all, throwing in the typical French cheek kisses. Alain just mumbled "good-bye" and gave them perfunctory handshakes before they left.

Barely three seconds passed after the door closed when Rosa blurted, "I don't like him."

Jenna turned to her. "Well that makes two of us."

"Yeah. That Alain guy seemed like a butthead."

Jenna turned to her sister, looking as though she would scold her for her language. Instead, she held her tongue, most likely because she agreed with Samantha.

"Gagh! I don't believe it." Rosa shook her head. "What's she doing with a guy like that? Mireet's nice and outgoing and caring, and that Alain . . . well, he's not any of those things. She shouldn't be dating someone like that. She should be dating someone like . . ."

She halted there, her jaw stiffening. Artimus knew exactly what she had been about to say.

"_She should be dating someone like Jimmy."_

He couldn't have agreed with her more. Hell, ever since Mireet started working in the U.S. secretly for _Force d'Vigilant _during the war, he felt it was only a matter of time before she and Jimmy wound up together. That belief was reinforced the night she came to their camp in the Appalachians, bloodied from her fight with three Death Eaters. Never in his life had he seen Jimmy as terrified as he had when he feared Mireet might die.

But Jimmy and Mireet would never be.

Anger sparked inside him. Maybe not anger, but certainly disappointment. Disappointment in his best friend. He thought back to his years at Salem, all the times he looked up to Jimmy, admired his strength, his confidence. Hell, sometimes he wanted to be Jimmy O'Bannon, instead of untalented, unappreciated, unwanted Artimus Rand.

What the hell happened to that Jimmy O'Bannon? What made a guy like that just abandon everyone and everything in the Wizarding World, including a girl he'd been in love with for five years?

_Jimmy, you are an idiot._

But Jimmy wasn't the only one with issues. He switched his focus to Rosa, who continued to scowl at the carpet. For the past few months whenever he'd been around her, he felt this sense of helplessness emanating from her. Helpless was not a feeling he'd ever associate with Rosa Infante, one of the strongest people he'd ever met.

And what about Jared? Always so happy-go-lucky, always joking around, and always by their side. Until this past spring, when he decided he'd rather be in Thailand than deal with all the problems facing his family.

Artimus sighed. _Why am I doing fine and they're not?_ No matter how tough things got during the war, Jimmy, Rosa and Jared always dealt with it. All three had this air about them that they would never allow anything, or anyone, to beat them.

Where was that attitude now? Why, in peacetime, did they allow themselves to be beaten?

He glanced over to Jenna, who stared at the door with narrowed eyes, probably thinking nasty thoughts about Alain. He reached out and squeezed her hand. She looked over to him. In an instant, the scowl vanished, replaced by a warm smile.

Artimus realized that was it. That was the reason he had not to fallen to pieces. He had Jenna by his side. How could anything possibly be bad with a woman like this in his life? In a way, Jenna, and even Samantha, were his support system.

Perhaps that was the problem with Jimmy, Rosa and Jared. At Salem, the four of them had been each other's support system. Even beyond their little quartet, they had the Infante/Diaz clan, they even had Jimmy's friends in Britain.

But that support system had crumbled. In a way, Jimmy, Rosa and Jared let it crumble.

_So did I._ But what could he have done about it? He didn't possess Jimmy's motivational skills or Rosa's forceful personality. He was just Artimus, always in the background, always praying he didn't mess up and let everybody own.

He focused on Rosa again. More than anything, he wished he could do something to make everything better for the three best friends he ever had.

_**TO BE CONTINUED**_


	48. Blurring The Line

**CHAPTER 48: BLURRING THE LINE**

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **_The following contains some scenes of a sexual nature. You have been warned._

* * *

_Death Eaters. I hate those guys._

Jared peered over the boulder. Two of the hooded bastards stood in front of a tree, shouting questions.

"Tell us where the Stone of Prophecy is."

"Go to hell!" shouted a female voice, the girl's body blocked by the two Death Eaters.

"You're a defiant one. Let's see how long you can remain that way under a Cruciatus Curse."

Jared shook his head. _Let's not, asshole._

He leaped onto the boulder, bullwhip in one hand, wand in the other. Somewhere in the distance, he swore he heard music.

_Da-duh-dun-daaaaa, da-duh-daaaaa!_

"Hey, dickweeds!"

The Death Eaters turned.

Jared lashed out with his whip. The first Death Eater cried out as his wand flew from his hand. Moments later, his partner was also painfully disarmed.

Red bolts shot from Jared's wand. They struck both Death Eaters in the chest, dropping them to the ground.

Jared jumped off the boulder, adjusted his fedora, and strode over to the girl tied to the tree.

"You okay, Hermione?"

"I am now, thanks to you," replied the bushy-haired girl.

He used his wands to disintegrate the ropes that bound her to the tree. Once she was free, he grabbed her around the waist, dipped her, and planted a long, deep kiss on her.

When their lips parted, he refilled his lungs with air and glanced at the two unconscious Death Eaters.

"That's what you dumbasses get when you mess with Indiana Diaz."

_Da-duh-dun-daaaaa, da-duh-daaaaa!_

"Thanks for saving my life, Indy." Hermione Granger ran her hand up and down Jared's chest. "How can I ever thank you?"

He waggled his eyebrows. "Well, I got a few ideas."

Suddenly they stood in his old bedroom at his parents' house. They kissed fiercely, their hands roaming over each other's body. Clothing fell to the floor. He pulled her down onto the bed with him.

"Indy. Oh, Indy! Indy, yes! Yes! YES!!!"

They lay next to one another, naked, sweating, panting for breath. Jared reached over, stroking Hermione's hair. She smiled and snuggled against him.

_Aw man. I always knew that brainy chick had to be wild in the sack._

He kissed the top of her head and ran a hand down her side. Hermione moaned and slid her hand across his bare chest.

_Saving hot women from Death Eaters rules!_

The world went out of focus.

_Aw, dammit! C'mon._

Hermione Granger, and everything else in his old bedroom, dissolved. Jared found himself sitting on another bed, this one in his tent, in Thailand, back in the real world.

He continued to sit on his bed, staring straight ahead, trying to wish away the fuzzy feeling that consumed his head. After a few minutes, he worked up the effort to wipe the drool from his chin. A few minutes after that, he finally pushed himself off the bed and shuffled to the bathroom. He groaned, still feeling the sensation of Hermione's naked body against his.

_Damn. Hermione Granger. Well, why not?_ She may not be drop dead gorgeous like Cho Chang or the Patil twins, but she was pretty good looking. And imagining himself as his favorite Muggle movie hero . . . that was just too friggin' cool.

Unfortunately, as it always did, the Daydream Charm wore off and dumped him back in reality. A reality where Hermione Granger was in England with Ron Weasley, where he wasn't a whip-toting, adventure-loving _ark-log-ist, _where he no longer had a mother, where his family was a mess, and where he remained stuck in the middle of friggin' nowhere in Thailand.

_Merlin's beard, my life sucks._

Once he got dressed, he checked his watch. The Daydream Charm needed another seven hours or so to refresh itself. Thanks to all his experimentations, he could now use the charm three times a day instead of the normal two. Though it came with a drawback. Each daydream lasted only twenty minutes instead of thirty. He'd have to work on that some more.

He trudged over to the food tent for breakfast. As usual, most of the expedition members had already eaten and left. Whatever. He didn't mind being alone when he ate. It gave him a chance to think about what his next daydream should be. Maybe another sex one. With who? One of the hot Hogwarts chicks? One of the girls from Salem he had a crush on? Charlotte Chivero, the sexy Seeker from the Atlanta Archers? Maybe some hot actress from one of the Muggle movies Jimmy used to show him? Maybe a woman from one of those James Bond movies?

Or maybe a family-type daydream, one with Mom and Dad, happy and together. Christmas? Thanksgiving? A family vacation? Just a regular old family dinner?

Or what about something from his Salem days? Before the war, before Jimmy went to Hogwarts. Back when the world was normal.

He finished his breakfast and glanced at his watch. By his estimate, he had another six hours, thirty-eight minutes before he could use the Daydream Charm again.

He plodded across the dig site, ignoring everyone and everything around him. His head throbbed. He rubbed his temples, trying to make it go away.

The pain did go away after a couple minutes. Still, he groaned in annoyance. He never used to get headaches. But over the past month, he seemed to have one every few days, usually after using a Daydream Charm.

_Probably just another side effect._

Jared entered one of the work tents. Half-a-dozen researchers were scattered among the long wooden tables, immersed in their own work. He drew his wand, ready to use a Summoning Charm to get the latest set of scrolls he'd been assigned to translate.

"Jared. Over here."

His gaze fixed on a woman halfway down the second table.

"I already have our scrolls," his Thai assistant, Tasanee, informed him.

He groaned again and trudged over to her.

"You're late again," she stated as he took a seat next to her.

"Thanks," he grumbled. "I had no idea."

Tasanee tilted her head, worry lines forming around her mouth. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine."

"You don't look fine. In fact, you look like you haven't slept."

"I slept fine." He reached out and grabbed one of the scrolls Tasanee had laid out.

"I doubt that. This isn't the first time I've seen you come in here looking tired, dazed. Is anything wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong, okay?"

Tasanee chewed on her lower lip for a moment. "Does this have anything to do with your family?"

Jared slammed both palms on the table. He clenched his jaw, fighting down the urge to yell. "This has nothing to do with my family. It has nothing to do with anything. For the last time, I'm fine. Now can we just do our work?"

He shifted in his seat, turning his back to Tasanee as much as possible. Other than a disappointed sigh, she remained quiet.

_Thank Merlin._ He shook his head in exasperation. Well, it was his own damn fault. When they first met, he had mentioned to her that he'd come to Thailand mainly because of family issues, though he did not elaborate on it. For whatever reason, Tasanee seemed to make it her mission to try and dig the information out of him. And always, _always, _she'd add stuff about how families had to communicate and how any problem could be overcome if you worked hard enough and – and what a gem this one was – you only have one family.

She didn't do this every day, but she did it often enough where it started to get on Jared's nerves.

_Good thing she's hot, otherwise I would've told her to piss off a long time ago. _Still, if Tasanee kept on badgering him about his family issues . . . well, he'd quickly forget about her looks and tell her what he really thought of her and her concern for him.

Wand in one hand, translation text by his side, Jared went to work on the scroll. As with most of the scrolls they'd discovered, the charms masking their contents proved easy to counter. Not that he found anything interesting on this one, just a list of simple Transfiguration spells. Could it be part of a larger body of work? Maybe part of some essay written by some wizarding student hundreds of years ago?

_Big whoop. _He hadn't joined the Magical Museum of North America to discover somebody's ancient homework? He wanted to travel the world and find exotic relics and discover long-lost magical civilizations and uncover secret spells and charms and curses no one had used for hundreds, even thousands, of years.

Instead, they had him doing this crap job. He'd complained to his boss, Prajak Channukul, to let him do more interesting stuff. The asshole responded by giving him more scrolls.

Jared put down his wand and stared blankly at the scroll. He hated his job. He hated his life. He hated it here in Thailand. But if he left here, where would he go? Back to the U.S., to work for another boss who treated him like crap? To an aunt and uncle he couldn't stand? To a father who'd practically isolated himself from the rest of the world?

He looked at his watch and scowled. Five hours, and about ten minutes, before he could use the Daydream Charm again.

_Dammit, dammit, dammit. _

He pressed his hands against the sides of his head and closed his eyes.

_Think of something. You don't need a charm. You can daydream on your own._

_Think of something._

_Think._

_Think . . ._

A memory clicked in his head. He was thirteen-years-old, sitting at a table in a corner of the Blazenrowe Hall parlor. Across from him sat Demeter Brinell, with her long dark hair and shiny, pretty face and glowing smile. He remembered how his stomach lurched every time he looked at her that night. They were supposed to be studying for a Charms test, but instead wound up talking about . . . Merlin, he couldn't even remember what the heck they talked about. Most of his thoughts centered around how pretty Demeter looked.

"I really like you, Jared," she said suddenly.

He remembered his jaw hanging open, his mind blank as he searched for a response.

Demeter drew a shaky breath. "Do you . . . do you like me?"

"Um . . . uh . . ." He managed to nod vigorously.

"It's just that, well . . ." Demeter shifted in her chair. "I mean, sometimes I see you looking at me in our classes."

Jared swallowed. Did she think he was some kind of creep?

"I'm sorry. It's just, I think you're really pretty and you're nice, and . . . and, yeah, I . . . you know, I like you."

Nervous tremors gripped his legs. Merlin, he must have sounded like an idiot blurting all that out.

To his surprise, Demeter blushed and smiled. "So, um, I guess . . . maybe we can spend some more time together?"

"You mean like, be like your boyfriend?"

"Yeah," she nodded.

His heart pounded furiously. His stomach flipped end over end. He could barely breathe, yet he felt happy. Happier than he'd ever felt in his life. Demeter Brinell actually wanted to be his girlfriend!

"So I guess if we're together, we can . . ."

Before he knew it, he leaned across the table, closed his eyes, and puckered up.

He waited, and waited.

Nothing happened.

Fear consumed him. Was he doing this right? Did Demeter think he was being gross? What if she decided she didn't want to be his girlfriend?

Something soft and wet gently pressed against his lips. Excitement exploded inside him. He was kissing Demeter. Merlin's beard, he was kissing Demeter! His first ever kiss, and it was with Demeter Brinell.

"Jared?"

His brow crinkled. That didn't sound like Demeter.

"Jared." Something tapped him on the shoulder.

He jerked in his seat and whipped his head to the left. Tasanee looked at him, concern radiating from her face.

"Are you okay?"

A low growl percolated in his throat. Again with the, "Are you okay?" and interrupting a really cool memory as well.

"I . . . am . . . fine!"

Tasanee flinched. "I'm sorry, but you were just staring at that scroll, not doing anything."

"I was . . . thinking. Okay?"

"Jared, if something is wrong, you can tell me. I'd like to help."

"Nothing's wrong." His voice rose. "Now leave me alone."

"Does this have anything to do with your family?"

Jared slammed his fists on the table and shot to his feet. Tasanee slid back in her seat.

"What the hell is wrong with you!? Merlin's freakin' beard, ever since Prajak saddled me with you, you've been on my ass. 'Are you okay?' 'What's wrong with your family?' When are you gonna get the idea that I don't want to talk about it! Why do you even care if I have problems with my family?"

Tasanee opened her mouth, but didn't say a word. Instead, she turned away and stared at the table.

Jared snorted and snatched a couple scrolls from the table. "Do me a favor and leave me alone!"

He stomped away from her.

"Forgive me for caring!"

He stopped and looked over his shoulder. Tasanee scowled at him. Her eyes glistened. She turned away, shielding her face with her hand, and let out a sob.

Jared swallowed. Guilt spread throughout him. He winced as Tasanee sobbed again.

_Dammit. I didn't want to make her cry._

_Well, at least she'll probably leave me alone now._

He winced again as Tasanee kept crying. He stared at her, wondering what to do.

Lips twisted, head down, he marched out of the tent.

**XXXXX**

As the weeks passed, Tasanee didn't say a word to Jared. At least, when it came to anything that didn't have to do with their work. Even then, they kept their conversations to an absolute minimum. Jared tried to enjoy not having her bombard him with questions about his family. Part of him, however, felt bad for making her so upset.

_Yeah, but if you apologize, she'll go back to bugging you._

At least he could retreat from this crap thanks to his Daydream Charm. Further experimentations on lengthening the duration of his daydreams came with mixed results. Sometimes his fantasies lasted a half-hour, a couple times as long as forty minutes. Other times, the daydream lasted for fifteen minutes. Whatever. Every minute away from reality was a minute of bliss. If he could, he'd just stay in this daydream world forever.

One day in early February, Jared woke up, rubbing his face as his alarm clock rang. He slapped the annoying piece of junk, silencing it. Blinking his eyes until the blurriness faded, he reached out to the nightstand to grab his wand.

_All right. What should I fantasize about today?_

"Merlin's sake, Jared. Are you ever going to clean this room?"

He froze. That voice? It couldn't be.

He snapped his head to the left. A stocky woman with short black hair stood near the side of his bed.

"Mom?"

His mother shook her head and gazed around the room. "Honestly, Jared, you're twenty-one-years-old. You should be able to pick up after yourself."

His brow furrowed. What kind of daydream was this? "Oh. Um, sorry, Mom. I'll clean up everything."

"No, don't bother. You need to get to work. I'll take care of this. But next time, you're cleaning up this place."

"Sure. No problem. Thanks, Mom."

He got up and headed for the bathroom. Just before he got to the door, he stopped. A smile creased his lips. It was nice to have Mom back. Not just to clean his room, but for everything. As enjoyable as his sexually-oriented daydreams were, he had to admit he liked these fantasy worlds more, where his mother was still alive.

"Hey, Mom. I just wanted to tell you that I-"

He turned around. Shock slammed into him.

His mother was gone.

_What the hell?_ He shook his head. How could his mother be gone? This was his daydream. He could conjure up anyone and anything he wanted.

He scrunched up his face, trying to summon his mother back.

That's when he noticed his wand on the nightstand. The realization struck him.

He never cast the Daydream Charm.

_**TO BE CONTINUED**_


	49. Personal Demons

**CHAPTER 49: PERSONAL DEMONS**

* * *

Jimmy O'Bannon's eyes darted around, trying to take in a multitude of things at once. His linemate, Simon DuPage, skated around the boards behind the net, one of the Port Huron players in his back pocket. Two more players, one from his Fort Wayne Komets, the second from the other team, streaked in from the opposite direction. The Port Huron goalie shifted to his left. Yet another guy from the Port Huron Beacons shadowed him as he cut in front of the goal. The screech of thin metal on ice surrounded him as he tried to pull away from the Beacon defenseman.

Simon whipped the puck along the boards. One of the Komets' defensemen, Harvey Randle, got it. The Port Huron guy on his ass jabbed out with his stick, trying to poke the puck away.

"Harvey! Harvey!" O'Bannon skated backwards. The Beacon defenseman, a stocky Quebecer named St. Lucien, got in front of him and turned to face Harvey, no doubt anticipating a pass.

O'Bannon lunged forward, bumping shoulders with St. Lucien.

Harvey shot the puck toward him. It clacked against his stick. He pushed off to the left, St. Lucien right with him. Port Huron's goalie bent at the knees, tracking him, ready to block any shot.

Again he took in a myriad of things at once. The locations of his teammates and the Beacon players. St. Lucien skating next to him. The position of the goalie.

_Shoot or pass?_ He noted Simon's and Harvey's locations. Both had Beacons players around them.

He reversed direction. St. Lucien reached around him with his stick, trying to pokecheck the puck away. O'Bannon pumped his legs. My God, they felt like lead weights.

He ignored the pain. His eyes scanned the net. The goalie had the entire left side covered. The right side . . . he spotted some openings. Did he have the angle?

_Screw it!_

O'Bannon twisted around and fired the puck. St. Lucien banged into him. Somehow he kept his balance.

_Clang!_ It hit the post. Anger flashed through him . . .

Then vanished instantly as the little black disc caromed into the net. The horn blared throughout the arena.

"Yeah!" O'Bannon raised his arms. His linemates mobbed him, slapping him on the back and head.

Most of the eighteen hundred fans in McMorran Arena reigned boos down on him. It only made him grin wider as he skated back to the Komets' bench.

_Hey, if the other team's fans aren't booing you, you're not doing your job._

His teammates greeted him with high-fives and shoulder slaps.

"Good job, Jimmy." Coach Remelle pounded his back. "Way to stay with it."

"Thanks, Coach." He plopped down on the bench, squeezing out a mouthful of water from his squirt bottle. Joy flooded him. That goal gave the Komets a 4-2 lead with little over two minutes left in the game. Individual-wise, he'd just notched his tenth goal of the season. Sure, he wished he had a bunch more, but he still had a learning curve to overcome as nearly all the guys he faced had been playing junior, college or pro hockey for years, while he had taken more than three years off from the game to do . . . other stuff.

But he'd taken a lot of Coach Remelle's advice to heart, especially about hanging around the net, waiting for opportunities, and capitalizing on them. Reading the goaltenders and defensemen better, trying to catch them out of position. His confidence rose with each goal and assist on his stat sheet, and with each win the Komets recorded.

_I really do have what it takes to play pro hockey._

At least at this level. He still had a long, _long _way to go before even got a sniff at the NHL.

"ONE MINUTE!" The P/A Announcer boomed. "ONE MINUTE REMAINING IN THE PERIOD!"

O'Bannon looked up at the scoreboard, watching the remaining seconds tick down. He then looked out on the ice. Port Huron pulled their goaltender in favor of an extra skater. The Komets goalie, Gabriel Unken, turned away two shots before Fort Wayne cleared the puck down the ice. Yeah, they got called for icing, and the ensuing face-off would take place back in Fort Wayne's end, but now only twenty seconds remained in the game.

O'Bannon started bouncing on the bench. All his guys needed to do was hold off the Beacons for twenty more seconds and they'd get the win, and end this little two-game losing streak of theirs.

"C'mon, boys!" he shouted out to his teammates. "Hold 'em! We can do it!"

Just twenty more seconds. Twenty more seconds until victory. Twenty more seconds until the game was over.

He froze. Dread slowly filled him.

In twenty more seconds, he wouldn't have a game to concentrate on. In twenty more seconds, other things would occupy his mind.

Fifteen seconds.

Ten seconds.

Five, four, three, two, one.

The clock hit zero. The horn sounded.

Everyone on the Komets' bench stood and cheered, including O'Bannon, caught up in the moment.

His stomach lurched. When would the next flashback hit him? When would the face of a dead friend linger in his mind?

He closed his eyes, trying to push it all out of his head. He was still in the arena, with his team. He still had his sanctuary.

For now.

The Komets skated toward the exit ramp at the far corner of the arena. Boos followed them the entire way. As they neared the exit, he could make out the jeers from individual Port Huron fans.

"You guys suck!"

"We're gonna kick your asses next time!"

A few fans, including a woman with snow white hair who had to be in her seventies, flipped them the bird.

O'Bannon shrugged. _It can be so fun playing on the road._

He ignored the pissed off fans as he followed his teammates back to the visitors locker room. Coach Remelle didn't address them long. He congratulated them on the victory, commended them on several aspects of their play, yet also pointed out where they needed improvement. Specifically, their penalty kill. Both of Port Huron's goals came on power plays.

O'Bannon nodded at Coach's critique. Naturally they'd work on their penalty kill, as they worked on all parts of their game. Still, that would happen in practice tomorrow. Tonight they'd celebrate kicking Port Huron's ass in their own barn.

He peeled off his sweat-soaked uniform and pads, talking with his teammates, reveling in their victory, even as he showered. He kept on talking as he slowly packed his equipment bag, wanting to stay in the locker room as long as possible.

"Let's go!" Coach Remelle called out. "If you're already dressed and packed, get out to the bus. We've got a long drive ahead of us."

O'Bannon sighed. Nervous tingles crept up his spine. Much as he tried, he knew he couldn't delay the inevitable. He had to leave his sanctuary.

Equipment bag in hand, he left the locker room and followed several of his teammates out the rear exit of McMorran Arena. The bitter cold night air enveloped him the moment he stepped outside. He chewed on his lower lip as he neared the team bus.

_Try to think of something else._

He replayed parts of the game in his head. The goal he scored. How he let himself get faked out by that one Beacons forward, who blew by him and scored their first goal of the night. What could he have done differently there? He thought of a few scenarios as he boarded the bus and plopped into a seat near the center. Next, he thought ahead to the Komets' next opponent, the Elmira Jackals. Not the greatest team in the world, but they had a couple of pretty good snipers who were sure to be a pain in the ass on power plays.

Memories leaked into his brain. Memories of a situation over five years ago. Draco Malfoy rearing back, taking the shot. The puck flying over Susan Bones' shoulder. The score tied, Triad 4, Slytherin 4.

_Oh dammit, no._

Draco Malfoy. Junior Death Eater Draco Malfoy. Just like Merak Mather. Merak Mather, whom he fought in the woods, who inflicted the Cruciatus Curse on him. He pressed his arms against his sides and shivered, recalling that horrendous pain, like white hot blades slicing apart his muscles and bones.

The image came to his mind's eye, plain as day. Mather laying before him, dead, his face a caved-in bloody mess.

_I did that. I beat him to death._

He stared out the window at the darkened city, several headlights traversing the streets around the arena. It was going to be another one of those nights, he just knew it. A night filled with memories of war and death. A night where the ghosts of dead friends visited him in his dreams.

O'Bannon twisted in his seat and leaned against the window. He clamped his hands together, pressing his thumbs against his chin. His breathing increased. What he wouldn't give to have a couple beers now. That usually helped settle him down before he went to bed. Some nights, though, it took more than a couple of beers. Hell, sometimes during the day he needed a beer or two – even three, every once in a while – to combat the memories.

_Maybe I should carry a flask or something._

After Coach Remelle walked up and down the aisle to make sure all the players, support staff, and front office people were aboard, the bus pulled away from the block-like structure of McMorran Arena. O'Bannon squeezed his hands tighter, to the point they hurt. The dark interior of the bus took him back to all those dark nights he, his friends and the children spent in the Appalachians, including that night the Death Eaters and Dementors attacked them. He shivered again as he recalled the spells shooting through the air, the fear they would all be killed, the fear he had failed the children he'd sworn to protect.

And Mather. He grinded his teeth, remembering how the bastard gleefully spoke of how his Death Eater buddies had tortured and killed Rana and her family. His hands shook as he felt the sensation of the rock he held smashing into Mather's face.

_My God, I killed him._

He covered his face with his hands, begging the memories to go away. Sighing, he sat up in his seat, scanning the other players around him as the bus crossed the Blue Water Bridge into Ontario, Canada, seeing if he could strike up a conversation with someone. It didn't matter about what. Anything would do, as long as it got his mind off that horrible night.

But all the guys around him had stretched out on their seats, trying to get some sleep during the seven hour trip to Elmira, New York.

O'Bannon groaned in frustration and slumped in his seat. His eyelids grew heavy, yet he resisted the urge to fall asleep. Sleep would just bring nightmares.

He stared out the window, watching other vehicles pass by, trying to think of other things. How to improve his game. What he needed to do against Elmira. How he needed to call his parents. He hadn't spoken to them in about two weeks.

His head drooped, then snapped back.

_Don't fall asleep. _

Again he stared out the window, studying each vehicle that passed, wondering why these people were still up and driving through Ontario at 11:30 on a Thursday night. Shouldn't they already be in bed, resting up for . . . work . . . the next . . . day?

O'Bannon found himself in the middle of a familiar living room, one with modest yet comfortable-looking furniture, a fireplace, and a strange clock with nine hands, each one containing a different name.

He was back in The Burrow.

Glass shattered. A thump came from the door. He spun around. His eyes widened at the sight before him.

Reptilian creatures with huge black eyes and sharp teeth surged into the living room. He recognized them at once. Voldemort's mutated Chupacabra.

_Wand! Get your wand!_

O'Bannon stood frozen as dozens of the snarling monsters charged through the room.

Someone screamed. O'Bannon turned and gasped. Artimus lay on the floor, a Chupacabra biting his shoulder.

_Help him!_

He still couldn't move.

Artimus kicked and flailed as the monster tore chunks of flesh from his shoulder and neck. Blood streamed out of his best friend.

_No! It didn't happen like this._

More screams pierced his ears. Without moving, he took in the entire room. Horror filled him as Rosa, Jared and the Weasley twins vanished under a pile of Chupacabra. He cringed and whimpered as he heard the ripping of flesh and the crunching of bone. Something sticky and wet washed over his feet. He looked down.

Blood covered the entire floor.

He screamed.

All the Chupacabra turned to him.

O'Bannon shivered. He tried to run, tried to go for his wand.

He couldn't move.

The Chupacabra drew closer . . . closer.

Terror overwhelmed him. _I don't wanna die. I don't want my friends to die._

The monsters surrounded him, blood dripping from their fangs and claws.

_Go away! Go away!_ He wanted to shout it, but his vocal cords were paralyzed.

The Chupacabra jumped on him. O'Bannon dropped to the floor. Claws and teeth tore into his flesh. His mouth opened wide. He tried to scream.

It wouldn't come.

He tried again. Again.

_No! No!_

"NOOO!!! Get off me! Get off me!"

"Yo, what the hell?"

"What's goin' on?"

"Jimmy? You okay?"

O'Bannon griped the top of his seat and the seat in front of him. He sucked down quick breaths, his head snapping left and right.

The Burrow, and the Chupacabra attacking him, had vanished. He found himself back on the team bus, with several pairs of eyes looking at him. Simon, Harvey, Gabriel, Marko. All stared at him with expressions of surprise and concern.

"Jimmy?" Coach Remelle made his way up the aisle toward him. "You okay?"

O'Bannon looked up at him, wondering if Coach could hear his pounding heart.

_Calm down. It was just a dream. Get it together._

"Um, yeah. Sorry, Coach. I'm fine."

Coach's brow furrowed. "What was that all about?"

He swallowed, glancing around at his teammates, all of whom kept staring at him. "Um, sorry. Just, um, just a really wicked nightmare."

"Musta been some hell of a nightmare, man," Gabriel noted.

"Yeah, what was it about?" asked Simon.

He whipped his head toward his linemate and friend. His jaw stiffened. How could he tell Simon, or anyone else on this bus, about his nightmare? Yeah, Muggles knew about Chupacabra, but to them it was more myth than reality. What would they think of him if they knew he'd woken up screaming from a nightmare where stupid, made-up monsters had attacked him?

"Um . . . uh . . . aw jeez, I can't even remember now."

Coach tilted his head, looking unconvinced. "You sure you're okay?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. Just . . . it was just something stupid."

Coach Remelle stared at him silently for a few seconds, then just nodded. "Okay, then. If you say you're fine . . ."

He headed back to his seat near the front of the bus.

O'Bannon looked around at his teammates. "Sorry, boys."

"Forget about it."

"No problem, man."

His teammates may have sounded like it was no big deal, yet he couldn't help but wonder what they must be thinking. Twenty-one-year-old men weren't supposed to wake up screaming from a nightmare. Did they think he had some mental problem? Or that he was some big homesick baby? Would they have doubts about him on the ice? Did they wonder if he'd have their backs if things got rough during the course of a game? Did they think he might crack in some pressure situation, like game-seven of a playoff series?

He drew his legs up and rested his chin on his knees. Embarrassment smothered him.

_I can't believe I did that._

_God, I need a drink._

O'Bannon sat quietly for the rest of the trip. As hard as he tried, he still dozed off from time to time. Thankfully he had no more nightmares. But his waking moments were filled with memories from the war. The battle with the Chupacabra in The Burrow. Artimus almost being killed by them. The mutilated bodies of the Diggorys. The fear more people would die, people he cared about.

It was shortly before six in the morning when the bus pulled into the parking lot of hotel a couple blocks from the Coach USA Arena in Elmira.

"Remember," Coach addressed them from the front of the bus. "We're practicing over at the arena at two o'clock. Get some rest, get something to eat, and I'll see you over there."

O'Bannon and the others filed out of the bus, grabbed their bags from the cargo hold and headed inside to check in. As on most road trips, he'd be rooming with Simon.

They entered their room, dropping their bags along the wall.

Simon spread his arms out and fell forward on the bed. "Ahhhh, at last, a real bed. You know, you'd think by now someone woulda come up with a bus seat that was actually comfortable."

"Uh-huh," O'Bannon mumbled as he sat on the edge of his bed.

"Hey, Jimmy. Can I ask you something?"

He turned to Simon and shrugged. "I guess."

Simon worked his jaw back and forth. "Um . . . I mean, maybe it's none of my business, but we're always rooming together on road trips, and well . . . there've been times when I wake up during the night, and . . . well, you're tossin' and turnin' and stuff."

"Really?" He sat straighter, the revelation taking him by surprise.

"Yeah. And, I don't know if anyone ever mentioned this to you, but sometimes you talk in your sleep."

"Seriously?" O'Bannon drew his head back, barely able to believe him. He'd roomed with Jared and Artimus for years at Salem and they never mentioned this to him once. Neither did his former girlfriend, Talia Laribee, during all the times they slept together.

Simon nodded. "Yeah, seriously."

"So what . . . what do I say?" He tensed, wondering if he'd blurted out anything about his former life.

"I dunno. Mainly it sounds like you're just babbling."

O'Bannon relaxed. He couldn't imagine what Simon would thing if he heard him spout off about spells and trolls and brooms that actually flew.

"Well, actually," Simon continued. "There was this one night I heard you goin' on, and it sounded like you were sayin' the same word over and over again."

"What was it?"

"I dunno. Weird-sounding word." Simon's face scrunched up, as if trying to remember. "Um, I think was something like . . . Tonks."

O'Bannon's throat clenched. His chest tightened.

Simon stared at him, looking befuddled. "What the hell is a Tonks?"

The memories hit him full force. His budding attraction toward her during The Longathian Tunnel Affair. Her quirky smile, her jokes, her toughness. That one, awesome night they made love.

The night he received Ginny's letter, informing him Tonks had died at the Battle of Hogwarts.

His throat tightened. A quivering sensation worked its way into his jaw.

_Get it together. Don't do anything that'll make Simon suspicious._

He opened his mouth. The building emotional storm strangled him.

_Dammit, be strong! Like in the war. Keep your emotions in check._

O'Bannon pushed down torment and stared at Simon. He managed a brief, half-smile and shrugged. "I have no idea. Hell, you said it yourself. I sounded like I was babbling."

"True." Again, Simon worked his jaw back and forth. "So, everything okay with you."

"Yes," he said more sharply than he wanted. He took a slow breath before continuing. "Look, I wasn't abused or suffered any other childhood traumas. I don't know why I have these weird nightmares. Then again, like any of us can control what we dream."

"Mm. Wish I could control my dreams. Then I'd be dreaming every night about that chick who plays Jackie on _That 70's Show."_

O'Bannon chuckled.

"So you're cool then?" Simon laid his head down on the pillow.

"Yeah, I'm cool."

"You say so. Now I can stop worryin' about your crazy ass and get some sleep."

"Have a good one, then." O'Bannon got to his feet. "I think I'm gonna go for a run."

"Dude, seriously?"

"Hey, I've been cooped up in that damn bus all night. Besides, I don't even feel tired."

"All right. Just don't wake me when you get back."

He grinned as he opened his suitcase and pulled out his sweats. "Sure thing. I wouldn't want to disturb your quality time with Jackie."

"Ha ha." Simon buried his face in the pillow.

O'Bannon changed into his sweats, closed the door quietly behind him, and headed out of the hotel. He got outside and started running. It took him three blocks before he found what he was looking for. A convenience store. He made a beeline for liquor section and grabbed a six-pack of beer. Standing in the short line, he started feeling self-conscious. The two other people ahead of him had coffee and donuts, stuff you'd expect people to have at seven in the morning. Did they look at him, look at his purchase and think, _alcoholic?_

_Am I?_

He couldn't be. Alcoholics hid bottles and stuff around their house, or their desk, or a closet, or any number of places. At least, that's what Mom told him about his cousin Gary and his Aunt Shelly when they had their drinking problems.

_Well I'm not hiding my beer, so I'm okay._

The self-conscious feeling stayed with him as he stood at the counter. He feared the clerk would give him some judgmental look.

Instead, the guy rang up his beer without batting an eye.

O'Bannon walked back to the hotel, slowing as he entered the parking lot. He worried about going inside with a six-pack in his hand. What if Coach saw him? It's not like hockey players never indulged in a few beers. But at seven in the morning?

_That's all I need. Everyone thinking I'm mental _and _an alky._

Plus they also had practice seven hours from now. Coach probably wouldn't look too kindly on him knocking back some brewskis before he hit the ice.

_And do I want to do that?_ Playing hockey was his job, his life. He needed to hone his skills every single day if he wanted a shot at his dream, at every hockey player's dream. To play in the NHL.

Could he accomplish that by showing up to practice drunk?

_Then again, look at some of the guys who played sports way back in the day._ O'Bannon had heard plenty of stories of athletes from the 1940s and 1950s who constantly pounded down booze, and still performed!

_Well, if they can do that . . ._

He made his way toward the rear of the hotel, sat behind the big metal dumpster, and went to work on his six-pack.

_**TO BE CONTINUED**_


	50. Human Wreckage

**CHAPTER 50: HUMAN WRECKAGE**

* * *

Rosa slumped in her seat, staring at the half-eaten sandwich in her hand. She then gazed around the Muggle Irish pub and restaurant. At almost every table, men and women sat together, eating, drinking, talking, enjoying themselves.

That wasn't the case at her table.

_Merlin's beard, I must look pathetic. _She hated eating alone. Even worse, she worked in an office with dozens of witches and wizards, yet she couldn't get one of them to go to lunch with her.

Actually, not true. After that disastrous night out with her fellow aurors a few months ago, she'd stopped trying to befriend any of her colleagues at work. Why bother? None of them seemed to care about her as an individual. They only thought of her as the daughter of the Director of the Aurors Bureau and the Secretary of Magic. If anyone acted like they wanted to be her friend, it was only because they thought it would enhance their career.

So she ate lunch alone. She tried to convince herself she preferred it this way, but even she knew that was a lie. Times like this Rosa found herself thinking back to lunches at Salem in the Communal Hall. She always had people to sit with, not just Jared, Jimmy and Artimus, but so many other classmates. They'd talk about everything; too much homework, rotten teachers, current couples, music, cool spells and charms.

She looked back at her corn beef sandwich, trying to recall those days. An image of students sitting around a table, eating and laughing, popped into her head.

Suddenly some of those students vanished. Gregory Lancemore. Cindy Walker. Eli Witting. Rana Rollingsworth.

She sighed, tucking her chin into her chest. The damn war had tainted even her most pleasant memories.

Rosa finished the rest of her sandwich, potato chips and cola. She then pulled out enough Muggle money to cover the meal and tip and headed out of the pub. People streamed back and forth along the sidewalk as she walked past the numerous stores and restaurants that made up the commercial center of Boston's Mission Hill neighborhood. She could have just found some secluded spot away from Muggle eyes and Apparated back to work, but why bother? Things had been slow recently for aurors in the New England Region, so all she had to do right now was catch up on paperwork. Lots of paperwork. More than she ever imagined a rookie auror needed to do. Why hurry back to that?

She kept walking, ignoring the Muggles around her. Then again, they probably ignored her, too. Though she had on her robes, the charms around her made the Muggles perceive her as one of them.

The commercial center gave way to rows of brick houses and triple-deckers sheltered by a myriad of leafless trees. Her eyes focused on one triple-decker at the end of the street, one that, to Muggles, appeared as a rundown, boarded up house. To magical folks, it served as Headquarters for Auror Operations: New England Region.

She slowed as she approached the triple-decker, noticing someone leaning against one of the nearby trees. Obviously a wizard, given the robes he wore. But his robes looked rumpled, like they hadn't been subjected to an Anti-Wrinkling Charm in a long time. He also needed a shave.

Rosa stopped, her mouth opening in shock, when she recognized the disheveled man.

"Uncle Irving?"

He lifted his head. "Rosa." He winced and turned away, as though embarrassed she had seen him.

Head tilted, she crossed the short distance between them. "What are you doing here?"

He turned back to her. "Um, just dropping off something to your boss. There's been an uptick of werewolf sightings in the region."

A familiar odor wafted from Uncle Irving's mouth to Rosa' nostrils.

"Uncle Irving. You've been drinking."

"Yeah." He shrugged. "I stopped at a tavern at Milmothryn Market before I came here. Just had a couple mugs of mead."

"But you're working."

He responded with a sardonic laugh. "I work in the basement, alone, taking reports of sightings of magical creatures. That's all I do. Do you think anyone's gonna care if I down a few mugs while I'm on the job?"

Rosa just stared at him. She couldn't believe her uncle just said that. Merlin's beard, he'd always taken pride in his job.

_Yeah, when he was head of SMACRAT._

But now they had him doing a job that a wizard or witch fresh out of school could handle. And with Aunt Liana dead and Jared running off to the jungles of Thailand, he didn't have much to motivate him.

"Well . . ." He drew a couple pieces of parchment from his robes. "I guess I should drop this off to your boss so I can get back to my little office. Who knows? There might be an owl waiting for me with a message from some idiot who mistook a dog for a Wendigo."

Uncle Irving started toward the triple-decker.

"Wait! I can take that." She practically jumped in front of him and snatched the parchment out of his hand. No way in hell did she want her uncle going up to her boss looking like this. If he caught one whiff of his breath, he'd immediately owl Uncle Irving's superiors at the Bureau for the Management of Magical Creatures. Then he'd be in a crapload of trouble.

He stared at her, not moving. After a few seconds, his entire body sagged – _has he lost more weight?_ – and he sighed. "Good. Thanks."

Without another word, he Apparated.

Rosa gazed at the spot where her uncle had stood. Dread welled up inside her. She thought back to Christmas, when Uncle Irving had actually seemed all right. She thought, hoped, that meant he was getting better.

But now . . . Merlin, she couldn't remember seeing him this bad. Aunt Liana had been dead for two years. Would Uncle Irving ever move past it?

_Does he even want to?_

He had to. He couldn't go on like this forever. Couldn't he see that he was slowly destroying himself?

The breath caught in her throat. Fear pulsated inside her. What if Uncle Irving _wanted _to destroy himself? From his point of view, what did he have to live for anyway?

These worries stuck in Rosa's head as she delivered her uncle's report to her boss, who then tasked her to interview the eyewitnesses. She really didn't feel up to any sort of investigation, not that she could tell her boss that.

Of the three eyewitnesses she interviewed, none appeared reliable. The first one was an elderly witch who lived alone in a small cottage near Nooseneck, Rhode Island. After talking with her for a few minutes, Rosa determined that it had not been a werewolf she saw. More than likely, she had seen a coyote.

"Nonsense," the old witch snapped. "Coyotes live out west."

"Actually, ma'am, coyotes live all over the U.S."

The old witch snorted at her, adding, "The Aurors Bureau most have lowered their standards since the war ended."

Rosa politely excused herself and left, mumbling insults under her breath as she Apparated away.

The last two eyewitnesses were just as aggravating. One, she determined, accused his neighbor of being a werewolf just to get him in trouble because he'd been stealing tomatoes from his garden. The other turned out to be a lonely old wizard who filed a false report in hopes the government would send someone out so he could have some company.

Rosa stormed back to headquarters, wanting to blow something apart with a Reductor Curse. What an absolute waste of an afternoon! She could have spent all that time doing something more productive, like sitting at her desk, pretending to do paperwork, while thinking of ways to help Uncle Irving.

As soon as she wrote up her report on the interviews with the eyewitnesses and gave it to her boss, she left for the day. Instead of going home, she wandered around Mission Hill, thinking. She was tempted to just go to Uncle Irving's, tell him it made her sick to see him deteriorate, tell him Aunt Liana wouldn't want him to be like this. But she thought he was too far gone for such pleading to work.

Maybe ask him to see a MBS Healer? No way. Like most Diaz/Infante men, their pride wouldn't allow it.

_Or maybe _I _should get some help._ There was no reason she had to try and help Uncle Irving on her own. She did have a rather sizeable family, after all.

Unfortunately, she had to dismiss Mom and Dad right off the bat. Forget about the fact Uncle Irving still blamed them for his removal as head of SMACRAT, if they learned he'd been drinking on the job, they may go from his sister and brother-in-law to the leaders of Wizarding America and fire him.

She also crossed Jared off her list. After all, how much help could he be thousands upon thousands of miles away?

_But Jared's not the only son Uncle Irving has._

**XXXXX**

The sun had already set when Rosa Disapparated near a modest, one-story brown and white clapboard house nestled in the woods of Northampton, Massachusetts. She marched up to the front door and knocked . . . hard.

Ten seconds passed with no one answering. She pounded on the door even harder.

"All right, I'm coming."

The door opened.

"Rosa?"

"We need to talk." She spoke over her cousin Esteban and barged past him into the house.

"Come in," he said, sounding a bit perturbed.

She got to the middle of the living room before spinning around to face him. "I saw your father today."

Esteban bit his lower lip as he shut the door. "Um, how is he?"

"Not good. Hell, that's an understatement."

"Rosa?"

She turned around to see Oriana emerge from the kitchen, with Rodolfo peering around her.

"Is everything all right?" Esteban's wife asked.

"No, Ori. Everything is not all right." She turned back to Esteban. "Your father stopped by my place today. To be honest, he looked like hell. When I first saw him, I thought he might be a homeless person. And I smelled mead on his breath. He's getting worse."

Esteban shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "What . . . what can I do?"

"What can you do?" Rosa's voice went up a couple octaves. "How about help him? He is your father."

"We tried doing that." Lines of frustration marred his face. "It didn't work. Nothing worked. He seems content to just isolate himself from the rest of the world and mourn my mother."

"Then try harder." Rosa narrowed her eyes at him.

"I don't know what to do." Esteban flung his hands out to his sides. "I mean, I've tried going over to his house. Most times he won't even answer the door. It's useless."

"But that's not the only reason, is it?" Oriana blurted.

Esteban froze. Moments later, he shook his head, all his focus on his wife. "Ori, don't."

"Don't what?" Rosa turned to Oriana.

Arms folded, Oriana stepped over to her, though her gaze was aimed at Esteban. "Don't what? Tell your own cousin the big reason you haven't gone over to your father's house for months? I've told you how ridiculous it is."

"What are you talking about?" Rosa's eyes flickered from Oriana's stern face to Esteban's reddening face.

After drawing a slow breath, Oriana said, "Esteban doesn't want to go over there because he's too uncomfortable seeing his father in the state he's in."

Rosa's eyes widened. Her jaw tightened, trying to hold back her boiling anger. She slowly turned to Esteban, his expression a mixture of anger and embarrassment. "Is that true?"

Esteban's face scrunched up. He looked all around the living room, deliberately avoiding eye contact with Rosa and Oriana. He shook his head and finally looked at them.

"Do you have any idea how hard it is? All my life, Dad's been strong. He always faced problems head on. He was always there whenever I needed him, or Jared, or you." He nodded to Rosa. "Now, to see him just wasting away, and not be able to do anything about it. I can't deal with it. I just can't."

"You can't deal with it?" Rosa spoke deliberately as she stepped toward her cousin. "You think it's hard for you to see Uncle Irving the way he is? How hard do you think it is for him to not have Aunt Liana around any more? To not be head of SMACRAT any more? To be shoved into a basement filing reports from people who see a friggin' coyote and think it's a werewolf? Everything he's ever cared about has been taken away from him. He needs our help."

"He doesn't want our help."

Rosa's head trembled in anger. "What the hell is wrong with this family? When the hell did we decide to give up when things get too hard."

She stomped over to Esteban. "Grab a coat. You and I are going over to your father's house right now."

"Don't tell me what to do. I'm not Jared, so don't think you can just lead me around by the nose."

"I said we're going to see your father." She grabbed Esteban's biceps. "Now come on."

"Leggo!" He yanked his arm away.

"Mommy?" Concern filled little Rodolfo's voice. "Why are Daddy and Cousin Rosa yelling?"

"Esteban. Rosa." Oriana held up both hands. "Calm down, please."

Rosa's face twisted in fury. "If I have to drag you to Uncle Irving's, I will. Now come on!" She clenched Esteban's biceps again.

"Get off me!" He whirled around, breaking Rosa's grasp . . .

And backhanding her across the face!

"Esteban!" Oriana's hand leapt to her mouth

Rodolfo started to cry.

A stinging sensation spread over Rosa's cheek. She put a hand over it, gaping at Esteban. He stared back at her, eyes wide in shock.

_He hit me. Merlin's beard, he hit me._

Esteban kept staring at her, mouth hanging open. She expected him to apologize, say it was an accident. It had to be. Esteban wouldn't hit her on purpose.

She waited for him to apologize.

Waited.

Waited.

Instead he closed his eyes, lowered his head, and turned his back to her.

Tremors gripped Rosa's legs. Her instincts screamed at her to react.

All she could do was stand there, stunned that Esteban, her own cousin, had struck her in anger.

_I just want to save my family._

But the family she wanted to save, the family she loved so much, the family that had been there for her from the time she was born, seemed determined to destroy itself.

She rushed to the door, flinging it open, and tramped out into the cold night air. She barely got out of the front yard before the tears streamed down her face.

_**TO BE CONTINUED**_


	51. The Long Arm Of The Law

**CHAPTER 51: THE LONG ARM OF THE LAW**

* * *

Jimmy O'Bannon snorted as he buttoned his shirt, glaring at the uniform and pads in his locker stall. Tonight had to be one of the Komets worst games of the season. The Quad City Mallards came into their barn and beat the living crap out of them. 6-1 they lost. Six to friggin' one! To a team named after a duck!

A scowl marred his face as he thought of his own play tonight. Shots at bad angles, shots that missed the net, playing out of position on defense.

Bottom line, he flat out sucked.

_Then again, everyone in the locker room can say the same thing._

After getting dressed, he left the locker room. Some of the players planned to gather at one of the sports bars near the arena. O'Bannon decided to pass. Right now he preferred to be miserable by himself.

He trudged to the parking lot and settled into his car. He jammed his keys into the ignition, then just sat there, staring at the steering wheel. Snippets of the game replayed in his mind. His scowl deepened as he saw himself getting faked out by Mallards players, and taking desperate shots that missed the net by a mile, and the three passes he made that were intercepted, and how the drive and determination he usually had on the ice deserted him.

O'Bannon thumped the steering wheel with his fist and sat back. Times like this, he wondered if he really had what it took to make a career out of this game. Forget the NHL. Could he even make it to the "big-time" minor leagues of the ECHL or AHL? What if he spent the next five or six years bouncing around from one small minor league franchise to another, as a few of his teammates had? Would he wind up thirty-years-old playing for some Podunk team in Bumbleflats, Montana, his window for having any prayer of making the NHL long since passing him by? Then what? What else was he qualified to do?

_In this world._

He shook his head. No. He left that "other world" behind.

Or, at least, he tried to.

Clenching his teeth, he looked out the window, gazing at the pinpricks of light that burned throughout darkened Fort Wayne. The dreams had started up again. After a week of peaceful sleeping, memories of war and death tormented him. Last night was a particularly bad one. Helghorst Island. Spells and curses shooting all around him. Beatrice Hill hit by a Killing Curse. Eli Witting impaled by a flying shard of stone.

And he could do nothing to save them. Them, and so many others that day.

_I'm not going to go through this tonight._ He started the car and pulled out of the parking lot. A few blocks away he came upon a convenience store and pulled into it. This would be one of those nights he'd definitely need a few beers to help him sleep, and hopefully, to prevent another dream like that.

He pulled into a space along the side of the store and got out. He immediately took notice of the big, black pick-up truck parked next to him, with a trio of college-age girls standing around it. His eyes lingered on the closest one; slender with long black hair, an angular face with a little too much make-up, and full, red lips. She also had nice, long legs covered by black stockings.

She caught him staring at her and responded with an approving smile. "Hi."

"Hi." He nodded and started toward the store. Just as he stepped onto the concrete walkway, the girl called to him.

"Excuse me."

O'Bannon stopped and turned. "Yeah?"

Still smiling, she sauntered over to him, joined by her two friends, one blond, the other with brown hair. Both just as hot, though again, wearing more make-up than they needed.

"Um, we were wondering if you could help us out." The brunette stuck her hip out to one side and slowly blinked her eyes.

"What do you need help with?"

"Well, one of our friends is having this huge party, and she wanted us to bring some beer. But the asshole clerk in there," she nodded toward the store, "asked for ID. I left my fake ID at home, and when the guy checked Cheryl's ID," she turned briefly to the blond, "he told us to leave or else he'd call the cops. Please tell me you're twenty-one."

"That I am."

The brunette's smile grew wider. She took another step closer to him as his eyes roamed up and down her body. "Well then, that being the case, would you mind buying us a couple cases of beer for our party?"

Warning bells went off in the back of his mind. Common sense told him to say no and go about his business. He didn't even know these girls.

_But they're hot._ He also took note of how the brunette looked at him, smiled at him.

O'Bannon remembered that day over a year-and-a-half ago, his unexpected run-in with Yuki Tamazaki at Mount Ida College, and the party they'd gone to after the football game. There'd be a lot of underage drinking going on there, and no one bothered them.

_And look what happened with me and Yuki after the party._

Again his eyes roamed up and down the girl's body. Maybe if he played his cards right, he could wind up in bed with her, too. It sure beat going home, drinking alone, thinking about the crap game he played and worrying about another nightmare.

"Well, that depends," he said to the girl. "A, will you be at this party, and B, can I join you?"

The brunette gave him a sultry smile and waggled her thin eyebrows. "Yes on both counts."

O'Bannon smiled and bowed. "Then I'm your man. By the way, I'm Jimmy."

"Courtney." She shook his hand. "And these are my friends, Robin and Cheryl." She glanced first at the brown-haired girl, then the blond.

Courtney handed him a couple twenties and he strode into the store. He soon emerged with two cases of beer, to the delight of the trio.

"Okay." He put both cases in his truck. "You girls lead the way, and I'll follow."

"Actually, I'll come with, if you don't mind." Courtney smiled at him, looking hopeful.

"Hey, who am I to turn down the services of a beautiful navigator?"

Courtney grinned and bounced on her black high heels. She tossed her keys to Robin and told her to drive her pick-up.

O'Bannon opened the passenger door for Courtney, who looked a bit surprised.

"Um, thanks," she said as she slipped into the car.

"You're welcome." He closed the door and walked round to the driver's side. _Something tells me this is gonna be an awesome night._

He got behind the wheel, looking at Courtney. She tilted her head, giving him another sultry smile. His heartbeat increased, as did the heat below his waist.

Something niggled the back of his mind. The image of another girl who wore too much make-up and threw herself at any guy she met. Ivy Chatham, otherwise known as, The Salem Skank.

She'd come on to him more than once. But every time, he turned her down – unlike Jared that one time, which earned him a severe tongue-lashing from Rosa about "poor judgment" and a "lack of dignity." O'Bannon wanted a relationship, preferably with a strong woman, a woman of character. Girls like Ivy, in his opinion, lacked character. They came off as shallow with little self-respect. He sensed that vibe coming from Courtney. Hell's bells, they only met five minutes ago, and already she was in his car coming on to him. For all she knew, he could be some chainsaw-wielding psycho.

_But I'm not, so it's cool._

He pulled out of the parking space and followed the pick-up onto the street.

"So, you go to college around here?" he asked.

"Yup. IPFW." She referred to Indiana University-Purdue University at Fort Wayne. "What about you? You go there, or some other school?"

"Me? No, I don't go to school. I actually play for the Komets."

"Oh? That's the hockey team, isn't it?"

Judging by that reaction, Courtney didn't appear to be much of a sports fan.

"Yes it is. So, what about you? What are you majoring in?"

Courtney shrugged. "Psychology, for now. But it's getting too hard. I'm probably gonna change it. To what I don't know. Whatever. I'm just having a good time."

He winced at that. She didn't sound like a very motivated person. In his line of work, where motivation was critical, it bothered him to see someone who lacked that trait, especially someone he wanted to spend time with.

_Dude, you're not looking to marry her, just have a good time with her._

"So, like, with the hockey team," Courtney continued. "Do you get to travel and stuff?"

"Yup." He nodded, following the pick-up as it made a right.

"That's gotta be cool, goin' all over the place."

"I don't know if 'cool' is the word I'd use. I mean, we can spend six, seven hours cooped up in a bus, then we're cooped up in a hotel. And it's not like we're going to exotic places, unless you consider Port Huron, Michigan or Rockford, Illinois exotic."

"Ew, that sounds like it kinda sucks. But it beats sitting in some class with a teacher who was born in, like, the Stone Age."

"Yeah, I guess it does."

O'Bannon followed the pick-up into an upscale residential neighborhood, through a gate and up a circular driveway crowded with dozens of vehicles. His eyes widened when he saw the big three-story, Victorian-looking house.

"Damn! That's where your friend lives?"

"Yeah. Cool, ain't it? Her dad runs some kind of electronics company and gets all these government contracts. He's got a ton of money. But I guess you do, too."

"Huh?"

"Well, aren't all athletes rich?"

O'Bannon half-snorted, half-laughed. "Not at my level. I'm in the minors. When I get to the NHL, then I'll be making enough to afford a place like this."

"So you think you'll be making that kind of money one day?"

He chewed on his lower lip for a moment, then nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, I do."

Courtney smiled. "Cool."

They got out of the car. Pounding dance music blared from the house, and from a few parked vehicles further up the driveway. A throng of people congregated around the porch and the vehicles, drinking and talking animatedly. He popped the trunk as Robin and Cheryl joined them. Courtney pulled out four cans from one case, handed two to him, and kept the other two for herself.

"You guys go ahead," she told the other two girls. "We'll catch up."

Robin and Cheryl looked at one another knowingly, giggled, then headed off.

O'Bannon's eyes widened for a moment. He glanced over at Courtney, who smiled as she slowly twisted her body from side to side. She sauntered back to the car and opened the rear passenger door. Waggling her eyebrows, she got into the backseat.

_Damn. It looks like I won't even have to try hard with this one._

He joined her in the backseat. They cracked open their beers and drained them.

"Ahhhh." Courtney pressed herself back against the seat. "I think this is gonna be a fun night."

"That's what I'm hoping for." He smiled at her. "So tell me. You in the habit of picking up strange men in parking lots?"

She turned her head toward him. "Only really cute ones. And you are really, _really _cute."

She slid over to him. He stiffened he felt her hand gently grasp his inner thigh. His heart hammered in his chest as Courtney leaned in, her lips parting. He wrapped an arm around her waist as they kissed.

Their mouths opened wider and wider. Their tongues dueled. Her hands slid up and down his chest. His lips moved down her neck. Courtney moaned as he gave her a gentle love bite. His hand slid over her butt.

"Yes, Jimmy." She kissed his cheek, then nipped his ear. "Yes."

She straddled him. Their kissing grew fiercer. Her fingers worked their way along his chest, undoing the first button of his coat. Then the next, the next. He started undoing the buttons of her coat, kissing her along her jaw.

In less than a minute their coats were off. She went to work unbuttoning his shirt, while he started pulling off her sweater. Excitement and lust overwhelmed him. He couldn't wait to get her naked, to –

Someone knocked on the window.

Courtney gasped. O'Bannon wiped his head around.

A man with a round, dark face stared through the window at them. O'Bannon noticed a gold badge pinned to the man's dark blue jacket.

He was a cop.

The officer tapped the window with his flashlight again and motioned for them to get out.

O'Bannon exited first, followed by Courtney, who stood hugging herself, her eyes focused intently on her shoes. His eyes flickered around, spotting a couple more police cars parked at the end of the driveway. Two more officers headed up to the house.

"Evening." The cop nodded to them. "We got noise complaints from some of the neighbors around here. Can I see some ID?"

Both he and Courtney retrieved their driver's licenses. The cop looked them over, then aimed his flashlight inside the car. O'Bannon's gaze followed the beam as it settled on the beer cans in the backseat. Tension gripped him. _This can't be good._

"You both been drinking tonight?" The cop leaned in a bit, no doubt to catch the odor of alcohol on their breath.

"Yes, Officer," O'Bannon replied.

"I just had one beer," Courtney answered.

"You haven't been drinking and driving, have you?"

They both shook their heads and answered, "No."

The cop paused, staring at their licenses again. He then glanced up at him. "You do realize this girl is nineteen, don't you?"

"Yeah." He shrugged.

"And you were providing her with alcohol."

His throat tightened. Dread mounted inside him.

"And the beer in your trunk. That belong to you, Mister O'Bannon?"

His brow furrowed. How could he . . .

His head snapped toward his trunk. Worry tore through his stomach as he realized he never closed the trunk. The two cases of beer were there for the whole world to see.

Including this cop.

"Yeah, that's his beer," Courtney piped up. "He's the one who bought it."

He turned back to Courtney, eyes wide. The girl didn't even look at him, didn't even seem bothered by the fact she just threw him under the bus.

_I can't believe it. We were gonna . . ._

What? Have sex? What the hell else was he going to do with this girl? This girl he barely even knew.

"Is that true, Sir," the cop asked.

He looked at him, then glanced at the open trunk. The though of lying came and went. What was he supposed to say, anyway? The beer was in his car, and sure as hell Courtney wouldn't be of any help to him.

"Yeah." He lowered his head, frowning. "Yeah, I bought it for them."

"Uh-huh." The cop just stared at him for a few moments. "Please turn around and place your hands on top of the car."

O'Bannon blinked twice. "Wh-What?"

"I'm placing you under arrest."

"Arrest? For-For what?"

"Providing alcohol to underage persons. Now please, Sir. Place your hands on top of the car."

Shock overwhelmed him. Almost unconsciously, he turned around. His legs quaked as the cop patted him down, then handcuffed him.

_This can't be happening. This can't be happening._

**XXXXX**

O'Bannon sat in a holding room, his right wrist handcuffed to the table. He stared at the wall, images of the last hour going through his mind. The cop reading him his rights, sitting in the back of the police car, being fingerprinted, getting his mug shot.

_I got arrested. I can't believe I got arrested._

He glanced at the door, waiting for someone to come in, dreading it. What would happen? Would they take him to jail? Most likely. He grinded his teeth as worry consumed him. What would Mom and Dad think when they heard he got arrested? And the team! Crap, would Coach give him the boot? Would that be it for his pro hockey career?

_C'mon. How many other athletes get in trouble with the law and still keep playing?_

Of course, many of those athletes were big-time players in the top sports leagues in the country. He was an all right forward for a small-time minor league hockey team. Who would cut him any slack?

_Quit being a pussy. You've been through worse scrapes than this._

He drew a few deep breaths. He'd fought Death Eaters and giants and trolls in that "other life." He was strong, he was resilient. Whatever happened, he could overcome it.

_But this still sucks._

_Damn, I need a drink._

The doorknob clicked open. He turned, his chest tightening.

A balding, overweight man with sergeant's stripes entered the room, carrying a stuffed manila envelope. O'Bannon cocked an eyebrow when he noticed the man smiling.

"Mister O'Bannon?"

He nodded silently.

The Sergeant continued to smile. "I just wanted to apologize. This has all been a misunderstanding. You're free to go. Here are your things."

He sat there, paralyzed. Had he heard right? "Excuse me?"

"This has been a misunderstanding. You're free to go." The Sergeant placed the envelope on the table.

O'Bannon continued to gawk at the Sergeant, who just kept smiling. What the hell did he mean "misunderstanding?" They caught him with the beer, beer he'd bought for underage girls. They had him dead to rights. Why would they just let him go?

Hinkey hairs stood up on the back of his neck. He kept staring at the Sergeant, who kept smiling at him.

"What exactly do you mean by 'misunderstanding'?"

The Sergeant shrugged. "This has been a misunderstanding. You're free to go."

O'Bannon's jaw stiffened as the Sergeant uncuffed him from the table. He could only think of one explanation for his miraculous deliverance.

The Sergeant stepped to the side, letting him get up. He continued staring at him, that damn smile still plastered on his fleshy face. After a few seconds, O'Bannon nodded, collected his personal items from the envelope, and walked through the door.

He tried to be happy as he walked through the bland hallway toward the lobby. He wouldn't be going to jail. He wouldn't get kicked off the team, or embarrass his family. He should be happy.

But happiness only existed below a mass of surprise and trepidation.

_Whoever they sent still must be around here._

He opened the door leading to the lobby, tension knotting his shoulders. His eyes swept the utilitarian room with its brown and beige tile floor, wooden benches, and the big, thick glass separating the reception desk from the rest of the world. A middle-aged couple sat on one of the benches filling out forms. An officer behind the glass stood and spoke on a phone.

None of them appeared to notice the striking woman with long dark hair and robes standing on the other side of the lobby. O'Bannon, however, did notice her, and to his shock, recognize her.

_Oh my God._

"Jimmy." Mrs. Infante greeted him.

His vocal cords froze. Even if he could talk, he had no idea what to say. He never expected to see Rosa's mother again. Part of him didn't want to see her again, or anyone else from that world. The fewer reminders of the previous ten years of his life, the better.

"Um . . . hey."

Silence hung between them for several seconds. Finally, Mrs. Infante took a deep breath. "Come on. Let's get out of here."

He followed her outside and down the concrete walkway, the parking lot to their right. He spotted his car parked in one of the spaces. Mrs. Infante must have been responsible for that as well.

"I take it you're the reason I'm not in jail?" he asked.

Mrs. Infante turned to face him. "That's right."

"How did you even know I was here?"

"The Department of Magic has charms to alert us to incidents like this. We obviously can't have a witch or wizard sitting in a Muggle jail. Along with possibly compromising the International Statute of Secrecy . . . well, let's face it. History has shown our kind haven't fared well when left in the hands of Muggle authorities."

O'Bannon nodded. "Yeah. Well, thanks." He started toward his car.

"That's it?"

He stopped as Mrs. Infante stepped toward him. "I haven't seen you in nearly a year, and all you can say is, 'Yeah. Well, thanks'?"

O'Bannon sighed. "Okay. Thanks for getting me out of there, Mrs. Infante. I appreciate it."

Again he turned to leave.

"Dammit, Jimmy."

"What?" He spun around, arms out to his sides.

She strode up to him, exasperation etched on her face. "What is going on with you?"

"What'd you mean?"

Mrs. Infante's eyes widened. "What do I mean? Jimmy, I had to come here to get you out of jail. Obviously something is very wrong."

"Nothing's wrong."

"Like hell. I talked to the officer who arrested you, and that girl you were with, before I modified their memories. Merlin's beard, what has gotten into you? Buying alcohol for underage Muggles? And that girl? You meet her outside some store, and just like that, you agree to get her beer, then try to have sex with her in the back of your car? That's not like you."

"I was just looking to have a good time. You know, blow off some steam. I had a bad night."

"What sort of bad night?"

O'Bannon groaned. "We had a bad game, okay? We got our asses kicked tonight and I totally sucked. That's it."

"I'm sure you've had bad games before and never acted like this. So is that the only reason?"

He clenched his jaw. Moments later, he turned away, watching the vehicles moving up and down the street in front of him.

Mrs. Infante gently clasped his shoulder. Her tone softened. "Are you having nightmares? Flashbacks?"

He whipped his head back toward her. "N . . . How . . . I mean, uh . . ."

She gave him a sympathetic smile. "It's okay, Jimmy. I have them, too. So does Cesario . . . Irving . . . so did Liana." A sullen look came over her face.

He stared at her silently. He thought back over the past few months. All the nightmares he had. All those flashbacks, like opening night, the kid who reminded him of Colin Creevey.

He hated them. He wanted them to stop. What's worse, in this world he had no one who would understand. At least with Mrs. Infante, she would know what he was going through. Hell, she fought in both wars against Voldemort.

_I just want someone to tell me it's going to get better._

He opened his mouth . . . then closed it. Mrs. Infante and so many others had depended on him during the war to be a leader, to show strength even in the darkest of times. How would it look now if he admitted his weakness to her?

_No. I'm not weak. I'm strong._

Another concern surfaced. If he told Mrs. Infante about all his personal demons, he'd be re-opening the door to "that world," the world that caused all this pain in the first place. He wanted that door shut forever.

"I'm fine. I can handle it."

Mrs. Infante sighed and shook her head. "Jimmy, it doesn't make you less of a man to admit you have nightmares from the war."

"Okay. Every once in a while I have a nightmare. But I deal with it. Heck, sometimes all it takes is a couple beers and I'm fine."

"Alcohol isn't the answer, Jimmy. Believe me, I've seen my fair share of aurors and Guild members who thought turning to the bottle would help them cope with what they went through during the war. It only made things worse for them."

"Well that won't happen to me." He poked himself in the chest. "Besides, it's not like I drink all the time. It's no big deal."

"It is a big deal when you do something that gets you arrested by the Muggle authorities." A stern look settled over Mrs. Infante's face. "This is why the Department of Magic gets so worried when Muggle-borns decide to work in this world rather than our own."

"Well the Department of Magic will just have to deal with it." O'Bannon's voice went up an octave. "I did check it out. The last law that prohibited Muggle-borns from working in this world was overturned by the Continental Wizarding Legislature in 1944."

"And they probably didn't anticipate Muggle-borns taking jobs that carried with it a degree of public notoriety. Look what happened when Jimi Hendrix dropped out of school to become a musician. Forget about all the enchantments and spells needed to modify his background information so Muggles wouldn't get suspicious, he actually used magic when he played the guitar. Thankfully the Muggles thought he was just extremely gifted and never caught on to the fact Hendrix was actually a wizard. But look at all the accidental outbursts of magic he had because of his drug use, accidents the Department of Magic had to fix. It got so bad the Department had to assign someone to him full-time until he died."

"That won't happen to me. I'll be careful."

"You call this being careful?" Mrs. Infante thrust a hand toward the police station. "Buying beer for a girl you don't know and winding up in jail?"

"All right, so I messed up. It won't happen again."

"How can I be sure?"

"I said it won't, okay?" Face scrunched in aggravation, he headed toward his car.

"Jimmy. I'm worried about you."

"I'm a big boy now, Mrs. Infante. You don't have to worry about me."

"I can't help it!" She dashed in front of him, forcing him to halt. "You're not just my daughter's best friend. You're part of my family, and I care about what happens to you! And I don't want to see you go down the same path Jimi Hendrix did. Let me help you."

"I don't want your help! I don't need any help, especially from you wand wavers! I just want to be left alone, and live _my _life, in _my _world! And after everything I did for you people, I earned that right. So just leave me alone!"

He stormed past her and got into his car. As he stuck the key into the ignition, he noticed the look on Mrs. Infante's face, like a mixture of shock, anger and . . . sadness?

O'Bannon drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. Disgust slithered through him. How many times had Mrs. Infante let him stay at her house, make him meals, answer whatever questions he had about the Wizarding World? He'd been blessed to have two best friends who had such a wonderful family.

And here he just yelled at one of those family members.

_Maybe I should apologize._

Instead he stayed put. If he was going to get over all his "issues," he had stay away from that other world forever.

O'Bannon started his car and pulled away from the curb.

_I need a drink._

_**NEXT: **__The quartet reaches . . . __**THE TIPPING POINT**_


	52. The Tipping Point

**CHAPTER 52: THE TIPPING POINT**

* * *

"So what did you think?" Jenna looked up at Artimus as they walked along the cobblestone streets of Haypippil Square toward their apartment.

He bobbed his head from side-to-side. "Well, it wasn't as loud as I thought it would be."

"I told you Brigit's band wasn't one of those loud, screaming bands. Their style is more like Gin Blossoms or Hootie and the Blowfish."

He vaguely remembered Jenna mentioning those bands before. He'd probably heard her playing their music from time to time, but he'd always been horrible remembering the names of music groups and their songs. Heck, before he started going with Jenna, he assumed all Muggle music was like the loud, angry wailing that Jimmy loved so much. What had he called those bands? _Ear-on Miden? Mut-licka?_

_I wonder how Jimmy's doing these days._

He sighed. How many months had passed since he last spoke with him? Times like this he found it hard to believe Jimmy would completely abandon the Wizarding World, including his closest friends.

The corners of his mouth twisted. He hoped Jimmy was happy playing hockey for a living. Still, he would have liked his best friend to at least owl him and tell him he was doing fine.

"I wonder how Brigit finds time to do everything."

Jenna's voice pulled him out of his reverie. "Huh?"

"Well, along with being in that band, she's taking a bunch of classes, has all that homework to do, works a part-time job, she even volunteers at an abused women's shelter. Jeez, a job and classes are more than enough to keep me occupied."

While it sounded like Jenna was complaining, Artimus caught a brief smile flash across her lips. His chest swelled with joy. With Samantha at Fantimoor a good chunk of the year, and with them living together, Jenna didn't have to struggle when it came to paying bills, the rent, and putting food on the table. Because of that, she had scraped together enough money to start taking classes at Northern Virginia Community College in pursuit of her nursing degree, just like she planned to do before her parents died. Despite the hard work, going to college filled Jenna with a sense of pride, of purpose.

He leaned over and kissed her on the cheek.

"What was that for?" she asked.

Artimus shrugged. "Just because."

Jenna smiled. This time they kissed on the lips.

He wrapped an arm around her shoulders as they neared their apartment.

That's when he noticed a robed figured sitting on the stoop leading to the front entrance.

Artimus swallowed, his free hand moving to where he kept his wand. Part of him told him he was being ridiculous. The war had been over for nearly two years. But after everything he'd been through, he learned that caution and paranoia were among the keys to survival.

"Who's that?" Jenna cocked her head, staring at the stranger.

He didn't answer. Instead he stepped in front of Jenna, his hand hovering over his wand.

"Excuse me. Can I help you?"

The stranger's head came up. Artimus' eyes widened when he recognized the face looking back at him.

"Rosa?"

Her face lit up. "Hey, guys." She sprang to her feet. "How are you doing?"

"We're fine," Artimus answered. "What are you doing here?"

"I just . . . well, I just wanted to stop by. Say hello, you know."

He studied Rosa's face, noticing how anxious she looked. Concern niggled the back of his mind. He got the feeling Rosa had come here for more than just a social call.

"How long have you been sitting here?" asked Jenna.

"Um, just a little while. When you didn't answer your door I figured I'd just wait here until you got back."

"Sorry," Jenna said. "One of my friends from school is in a band, and we went to see them play. Weren't you cold sitting out here?"

"Oh, I'm fine." Rosa brushed off Jenna's concern, then looked to Artimus. "Besides, we've been through much colder nights than this during the war. Right, Art?"

"Um, yeah. Well, why don't we go inside?"

He led the two women into the building and up the stairs to his apartment.

"You want anything to drink, Rosa?" Jenna asked as she removed her coat and hung it in the closet. "Coffee? Hot chocolate? Tea?"

"Yeah, coffee, if it's not too much trouble."

Jenna gave her a dismissive wave. "It's no trouble at all. I'd like some myself to warm me up. What about you, Artimus?"

"Coffee sounds good to me. Thanks, hon."

She smiled at him, then looked to Rosa. "Well, take off your coat and have a seat. Make yourself comfortable."

"Thanks."

Jenna smiled again as she disappeared into the kitchen.

Rosa hung up her coat and plopped down on the sofa. She clasped her hands together in her lap and sat there quietly. An uncomfortable feeling spread through Artimus as he stared at her.

"Um, so. Everything . . . um, everything all right with you?"

Rosa looked up at him, frowning. She stood and walked over to the window. For several seconds she stared outside in silence.

"Rosa?" Artimus stepped over to her. "Is something wrong?"

Shoulders slumped, she turned to face him. "Tell me something, Art. What did you think would happen to us after the war?"

He worked his jaw back and forth for a few moments, then shrugged. "I don't know. I figured we'd all go back to our jobs, be like regular people."

Again, Rosa frowned. "When we were in the Appalachians all those months, every night before I fell asleep, I'd always think about the four of us, what we'd be doing after Voldemort was beaten. I always pictured us still being close, always getting together for birthdays or holidays or Quidditch matches. You and Jared and Jimmy would all marry someone and have kids, and all your kids would be great friends."

"What about you?"

"Oh, no, no no." Rosa shook her head. "I don't see myself as the marrying and having kids type. I see myself more as the cool aunt."

Artimus couldn't help but grin.

A dour look spread across Rosa's face. "Doesn't look like that's gonna happen now, does it?"

She marched back to the sofa and sat down. Artimus joined her. He watched as Rosa's shoulders rose and fell with slow breaths. He nervously rubbed his tongue against his teeth, trying to think of something to say.

Rosa, however, beat him to it. "My mom saw Jimmy a couple nights ago.

"What?" His eyes widened in surprise. "Where did she see him? How's he doing?"

Rosa's frown became more pronounced. "She went to see him in Fort Wayne, to get him out of a Muggle jail."

Artimus' jaw dropped. Shock paralyzed him for several seconds. "Jail? Jimmy was in a Muggle jail? Why? What did he do?"

"Mom said he bought beer for this girl who was underage. I mean, underage according to Muggle law. She sounded like a real skank, too, from what Mom told me. It also sounds like Jimmy's having a lot of nightmares about the war, and he's drinking to deal with them. My mom offered to help him but he . . . he yelled at her. Said he didn't need anyone's help and just drove off. Stupid friggin' pride of his." A quiver went through Rosa's voice.

Artimus shook his head. "It doesn't sound like he's doing well, does it?"

Lines of frustration etched deep in Rosa's face. "He lost two women he cared about a lot and one of his best friends in the war. Did he really think just leaving our world would make him forget all that?"

"I know what you mean. When he told me why he was leaving, I wondered about it myself." He reached over and laid a comforting hand on her back. "I can see why you're upset."

Rosa's jaw trembled for a moment. "It's not only Jimmy. Something . . . something else happened."

"What?"

Rosa swallowed. "Last week I ran into Uncle Irving outside my auror's station. He looked like hell. So after work, I went over to Esteban's house and told him about it. I said we have to go over to Uncle Irving's and help him. But he didn't want to, said he can't stand to see his father like that, a shell of a man. I told him he had no choice, that we were going whether he wanted to or not. So I grabbed him by the arm to make my point, and he swung around to yank himself free and . . . and . . ."

She clasped her hands together so tightly they shook.

"And what?" Artimus slid closer to her.

"He . . . he hit me."

Shock hit him like a punch to the gut. He questioned what he'd just heard. Esteban hit Rosa? How could that be? Esteban always seemed like a good guy to him.

"I know it was an accident," Rosa continued. "It had to be. But . . . but he didn't apologize. And now . . . Mom told me that Oriana took Rodolfo and left him."

All he could do was just stare at Rosa. Jimmy in jail. Esteban hitting Rosa. His wife leaving him and taking their son. It all seemed so unreal to him.

"I'm just trying to help my family." She turned to him, her eyes glistening. "But nothing I do works. Everything's falling apart! My whole family's falling apart and I . . . I . . . why can't I make everything better!?"

She collapsed onto Artimus, sobbing. He wrapped his arms around her, staring down at her quaking body. He couldn't believe she just fell apart like that. Rosa rarely cried in front of him, or Jimmy or Jared. Sure it happened a few times when she broke up with a boyfriend when they'd been at Salem, but he'd never seen her this bad, this . . . helpless.

He hated thinking the word. Rosa was one of the strongest, bravest people he knew. How bad had things gotten with her family that it reduced her to this weeping mass?

He sensed someone else in the living room. He looked up and noticed Jenna standing a few feet away, staring at them with a mixture of shock and concern.

Worry cut through Artimus. Would Jenna be jealous or upset seeing him holding another woman, even if that woman was one of his best friends?

Instead she sat on the arm of the sofa and put a hand on Rosa's shoulder.

"I heard." She mouthed to him and nodded toward the kitchen.

"I just want everything to be like it was before," Rosa spoke through her sobs.

Artimus held her tighter. Jenna rested her head of Rosa's back.

He had no idea how much time passed before Rosa's crying subsided. Artimus summoned over a box of tissues with his wand.

"Thanks." Rosa wiped her tear-stained face. "Oh Merlin's beard, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to . . . to do this."

"Don't apologize." Jenna rubbed her back. "I know this has to be hard for you."

"That's an understatement," Rosa sniffled.

Jenna bit her lower lip for a moment. "Look, why don't you just crash here tonight."

"Oh no. I don't want to bother you guys."

"It's not a bother," Artimus told her. "After everything we've been through, this is the least we can do. I can transfigure the sofa into a bed and you can borrow some of Jenna's bed clothes."

"You . . . You sure?"

"Yes, we are absolutely sure," Jenna said forcefully.

Rosa looked from one to the other. "Thanks, guys. Thanks so much."

Artimus easily turned the sofa into a full-sized bed, while Jenna brought out extra pillows and blankets, and Rosa changed into some of Jenna's old pajamas. While Jenna went to the bathroom to take a shower, Artimus stayed in the living room as Rosa sat on the edge of her bed. After sighing a couple times, she looked up at him. "I'm sorry about all this Artimus. I should've . . . maybe I shouldn't have come over here tonight to bug you guys."

"Stop apologizing. How many times did I come to you with a problem when we were in school?" Guilt flickered inside him. Rosa usually had advice for him on any problem he told her about. For her however, he couldn't think of anything to help her and her family.

"Thanks." She gave him a weak smile. "It's just . . . I know Jenna's been really nice to me, but having another woman sleeping over in your place, I just don't want her to think . . . well . . ."

"Oh Merlin, don't even think that. She was the one who recommended you sleep here tonight. I think she knows you're like a sister to me. Besides, she's always thought you were cool."

Again, Rosa grinned. "I'm glad to hear it." She took a breath, her expression becoming more serious. "Jenna's a good woman, Art. You two are great together. Don't ever let go of her."

His chest seized as Rosa hit on something he'd been contemplating for several months. Did he have the guts to go through with it, though?

"I . . . I won't."

"Good." Rosa laid down and pulled the blankets over her. "You have to hold on to people like her, Art. You're doing a better job of it than I am. You've got Jenna and Samantha in your life. Me? I used to feel so blessed to have so many people in my life who cared about me. Now . . . Aunt Liana's dead, Uncle Irving's a mess. My parents? Sometimes . . . sometimes I'm just so mad at them. For kicking Uncle Irving off of SMACRAT, for being the leaders of Wizarding America instead of just regular aurors, and how that affects the way people view me at work. Then there's Jared and Jimmy. They just ran out when things got too hard. Esteban . . . I just wanted us to help Uncle Irving, and instead I wind up breaking up his family. Even George. I just wanted to comfort him and . . . he misunderstood and . . . I know we weren't together long but . . . but I think I loved him."

Artimus' throat constricted. He walked over and put a hand on Rosa's shoulder. "It'll . . . it'll be all right."

She sighed. "I wish I could believe that, Art. I really do."

He gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze. Tremors went up and down his legs. Disappointment welled up inside him . . . and something else. Anger. The four of them had been through so much. They survived Death Eaters in Ovenderburg, an oppressive Ministry of Magic and altered Chupacabra in England, nine months on the run in the Appalachians, the Battle of Helghorst Island. The war brought them closer together.

How was it peacetime could tear them apart?

More importantly, could anything bring them back together?

**XXXXX**

Artimus sat up in bed, staring alternately between his folded hands and the wall. His thoughts went beyond this room and to the living room, where Rosa slept. He replayed her breakdown, her litany of family problems, talking as though she blamed herself.

Other images played through his mind. Rosa's other breakdown, this one after her aunt's memorial service. The day Jimmy came to him and explained how he had to leave the Wizarding World. How depressed Jared seemed in the months leading up to his departure to Thailand. Even Mireet didn't look happy being with that Alain guy.

The floor creaked nearby. He looked up to see Jenna return from the bathroom. She closed the door gently so as not to disturb Rosa.

"Hey," she said as she crossed the room and plopped down in bed next to him.

"Hey," he muttered.

She reached down and grasped his wrist. "Still thinking about Rosa?"

Artimus sighed. "I'm actually thinking about all of them. Rosa, Jimmy, Jared, Mireet. I'm also thinking about what Rosa said earlier, about how she expected all of us to remain close after the war. I always thought that would happen, too. I mean, even before we got caught up in the war, we . . . those three . . ."

His head drooped as he pressed himself against the backboard.

"What is it?" Jenna squeezed his wrist again.

His mouth twitched. Sighing, he turned to her. "When I was going to Salem, I wasn't really popular. To be frank, a lot of people simply didn't like me. Some because of who my father is, or because they assumed I was an arrogant rich boy, or because I wasn't athletic or cool. But Jimmy and Rosa and Jared, they accepted me. It was the first time in my life I was part of a group where I felt like I really belonged, where I felt like people actually cared about me. Apart from Hector, I couldn't say that about my own family. But those three, they always encouraged me to believe in myself, to stand up for myself. But before the war, I remember seeing the way they carried themselves, with such confidence. People gravitated toward them, they made friends easily. They never backed down if anyone threatened them, or if they saw some kid getting bullied, they'd jump in and stop it, even if they didn't know the kid. I can't tell you how many times I wished I was just like them. I can't imagine what those seven years at Salem would have been like without them. And if I hadn't been with them during the war, well, I probably wouldn't be here with you right now."

Artimus closed his eyes, his stomach collapsing. "I just miss being with them, being with them the way they were before . . . before everything went to hell."

Several seconds of silence passed. Sighing softly, he looked up at Jenna, who stared at him with a neutral expression.

Worry surged through him. "Oh. Oh, Jenna. I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that. I mean, you're the most important thing in the world to me. I just . . . it's . . ."

"Art, it's okay. I understand." She slid closer to him, rubbing his biceps slowly. "You know, the more I think about it, the more I think you still need them all in your life."

"Really?"

Jenna nodded. "You're really lucky to have friends like that. How many years has it been since you graduated from Salem? Almost five? Yet you still see Rosa, and, well, before they left, you still saw Jimmy and Jared. They're more like brothers and a sister to you than friends. Hell, some siblings aren't even as close as you four are." A crest-fallen look came over her face. "Kinda like me and Sam."

Artimus' brow wrinkled. "What do you mean? You and Sam are close."

"Not the way you four are. I mean, I love Sam, of course. And I know she loves me. But, there's almost a ten year age difference between us. And after our parents died, most times I feel like I'm more a mother to her than a big sister. I wish it wasn't like that, but what can you do? And as for friends from school? There were some girls I was pretty tight with in high school. I can't even remember the last time I saw any of them. Meanwhile, one of your best friends from school is sleeping in our living room tonight because she felt you were the only person she could turn to. That's saying something."

"Yeah. But I have one best friend who's thousands of miles away in Thailand, and another one who just abandoned this world."

"And you'd like to have them back, wouldn't you?"

He nodded. "Yeah."

"Then go get them."

Artimus drew his head back in surprise. "What?"

"Art, Jimmy and Jared are more than your friends. They're family. So is Rosa. And let's face it, neither of us have much in the way of family. You said it yourself, they helped you a lot. Now it's time for you to help them."

He sucked on his lower lip. Jenna spoke the truth. He desperately wanted to help his friends, the only other family he really had outside Jenna and Samantha. But one question dominated his mind.

"Do you think I can do it? Do you think I can get them to listen to me? Do you think I can even come up with the right words for them?"

Jenna smiled. "Think about the day we first met. I was terrified to let Sam go into the Wizarding World. No one was gonna change my mind otherwise. But you did. You were thoughtful, honest, sympathetic, and just really nice. You helped ease my fears, and looking back on it, it was the best decision I ever made. Sam loves it here, and I'm with you."

His heart leapt when she said that.

"If you can help me get over my issues," Jenna continued, "you can help them with theirs. And if you need any help, you know you can always come to me."

Artimus' throat constricted. He stared at Jenna's smiling face. An airy feeling spread through his insides.

He hugged and kissed her, fighting off the tears he felt stinging his eyes.

"Thank you. I love you."

"I love you, too."

He kissed her again, then gazed into her beautiful face as he stroked her hair. How could someone like him be so blessed to have a woman like this in his life?

"So," said Jenna. "What do we do first?"

Artimus looked away from her, staring thoughtfully at the wall. "Considering what Rosa said, Jimmy's probably in the most dire straits. We should try to help him first." He worked his jaw back and forth as more thoughts swirled around his head. "Then again, I don't know if I'm the right person to do that."

"Art, I told you, you can do this."

"It's not that." He shook his head. "It's just, it seems like Jimmy adamant to stay in the Muggle World, no matter how rough things get for him. I'm just not convinced I'm the best suited to help him. But I think I know the one person who is."

_**TO BE CONTINUED**_


	53. When Past And Present Collide

**CHAPTER 53: WHEN PAST AND PRESENT COLLIDE**

* * *

"This is very good." Mireet nodded in satisfaction as she took another bite of her tomatoes stuffed with goat's cheese. She looked over at Alain as he cut off another piece of his Skate wing with capers. "Are you enjoying your lunch, dear?"

He glanced up at her. "It is acceptable."

She smiled briefly. For Alain, that was high praise indeed.

"But," he continued, "they put too much seasoning on the Skate."

Mireet fought to keep from frowning. _Why is it so hard for him to enjoy anything?_

She chewed slowly, gazing around the Muggle bistro located down the street from Union Station in Washington, D.C. She had eaten here a few times before. While the white linen table clothes and the string quartet playing soothing music in the corner were nice touches, the black and white photograph of the Paris landscape covering every inch of wall and the waiters and waitresses wearing black berets, some of them throwing out French phrases at every opportunity, seemed a bit over the top. Still, she loved the food and the people who worked here always acted cordial and professional. After months of cajoling, she finally convinced Alain to come here for lunch. No easy task, that. Alain was very particular when it came to where he ate. He always acted uncomfortable when it came to trying some place new, unless one of his superiors at the embassy suggested it to him. Though knowing Alain, he only did it to look good in front of those same superiors, as he always told them he liked whatever restaurant they suggested, whether he meant it or not.

She hoped bringing Alain here was a sign his rigid manner might be softening.

But that seemed too much to ask for.

"I'm sure it is not as bad as you say," she said.

"Perhaps you are just easier to please. Ah! I think some of these potatoes are burned."

Mireet's mouth tightened as she glared at Alain. _Perhaps you just like to complain._

Alain's mood did not improve throughout their lunch. He moaned about how the ambassador appeared displeased by his recommendation to issue a warning to all French wizarding citizens traveling to the Carolinas because of an increase in raids by reptoids.

"She did not come out and say this, of course," he noted. "But I could tell she felt I was wasting her time. 'Three raids over the last month with no human casualties is not a cause for concern,' she said. She fails to see that this could be the start of some sort of escalation. Or perhaps I could have phrased my concerns better. There must be a way to get her to listen. I can't have her think me paranoid, or worse, incompetent."

Mireet nodded. That's all she did as Alain continued to complain. _What is the point of offering him advice? He will only tell me I am wrong or do not understand, as he usually does._

Mercifully, lunch came to an end. She wondered if maybe she should have planned this lunch date for a weekend, when Alain wouldn't be so wrapped up in his work.

_No. Even on weekends, he still thinks about work._

Well, maybe not as much as on weekdays, but still . . .

She stared at him as they walked down the street, holding hands. There had to be a way to get him to stop being so serious all the time. To relax. To realize that your career did not have to consume your entire life.

They neared an alleyway that would provide them cover to Apparate from Muggle eyes when a bus passed by. The large advertisement on its side caught her eye. It showed the helmeted head and upper body of a man holding a hockey stick. His black jersey sported an image of a domed building with two crossed hockey sticks. The words next to the man's image read, CATCH THE ACTION: CAPITALS HOCKEY. A phone number to call for tickets followed.

A smile spread over her face. She closed her eyes, thinking back to that day at Hogwarts . . . _has it really been five years?_ She recalled streaking across the ice, the tingle that went up her arms when the puck connected with her stick, rearing back and using all her strength to shoot it at the net. Getting hit by those awful Slytherin players, and hitting them back. The excitement, the adrenaline, the feel of being out of control yet in control at the same time. She never imagined a ground-based game could be as exhilarating as Quidditch.

She realized she hadn't had anything to do with hockey since her year at Hogwarts. Merlin, she didn't realize until now how much she missed it. The fast-pace, the physicality, the sheer joy of getting that little rubberized disc past the goalie.

"Alain."

"Yes?" he replied as they entered the alley.

"I have an idea. Why don't we go to a hockey game?"

He stopped and turned to her, one eyebrow cocked. "That Muggle game? Are you serious?"

"_Oui. _It has been so long since I have seen a game. It will be fun. I think you would enjoy it, too. Besides, my mother always says it is good to try new things."

Alain frowned. "Sports are nothing but a distraction to things that are truly important."

"Sometimes it is good to be distracted for a little while."

He rolled his eyes. "People who say things like that tend not to take life seriously."

The skin around Mireet's nose crinkled. "Are you suggesting I don't take anything seriously?"

"I have said in the past that sometimes your focus can be a bit off."

"Because I do not think about my career every hour of every day?" The tone of her voice hardened.

A look of disappointment came over Alain's face. "You have exceptional talents, Mireet. I don't want to see you waste them."

"There are things in life more important than a career. What about a family? Don't you want to have your own family one day?"

"Of course."

"Because you truly want to or because you think having a wife and children might make you look good in the eyes of others?"

Alain paused, a long, unsettling pause. "That is ridiculous."

"Is it? Almost every decision you make seems centered around how it will help your career. Is that the only thing important to you?"

"You are important to me."

"Then stop being so resistant when I suggest we do something fun." Mireet stepped closer to him, taking hold of both his hands. "I worry about you. You never seem happy. I want you to enjoy yourself. I want _us_ to enjoy ourselves. Is that so much to ask?"

Alain chewed on his lower lip. His eyes flickered to the ground for a few seconds, then returned to her. "Mireet, if we go somewhere to have your 'fun,' ignore everything else in our lives, even for a few hours, that means there will be others working hard during that time to further their careers at our expense."

Mireet pulled her hands away from Alain's. "Your career, your career. I am growing tired of hearing about your career all the time."

"And what would you have me do? Sit on a street and hold up a tin can, begging for money like the Muggle homeless in this city? Not care about bettering my life so we can go off to hockey games and idiotic Muggle restaurants because you want to have fun?"

She felt her cheeks grow hot. Loud breaths shot from her nose. Jaw clenched, she spun around and headed out of the alley.

"Where are you going?" Alain demanded.

"Back to the embassy," she spoke through clenched teeth.

"Then why not stay here and Apparate?"

"I prefer to walk," she snapped as she exited the alley and marched down the sidewalk.

She remained in a foul mood the rest of the afternoon, barely able to concentrate on work. Half the time she just glared at the photo of Alain sitting on the corner of her desk.

_Why must you be so difficult?_ The thought echoed through her head until it was time to go home.

She left the embassy by herself and Apparated back to her apartment. She had no desire to have dinner with Alain tonight. She had no desire to do _anything _with Alain tonight.

Mireet yanked off her cloak and hung it in the closet, closing the door harder than normal. Her face tightened in frustration as she stalked toward the kitchen to see what she could have for dinner.

A tapping came from her window.

She stopped and looked. An owl was perched on the window sill, an envelope in its beak.

The breath caught in her throat. She thought back to that horrible night nearly two years ago, when another owl had appeared at her window with another letter, the one that informed her and Jimmy of Fred's death.

Drawing a slow breath, she hesitantly walked to the window and opened it, letting the owl come inside. That's when she recognized the bird. Hollis, Artimus' owl.

She took the envelope from Hollis, opened it, and read the letter.

_Dear Mireet,_

_If possible, would you please meet me at The Golden Wand Tavern in Haypippil Square tomorrow at noon? I have something very important I need to talk to you about._

_Sincerely,_

_Artimus_

She continued to gaze at the letter, wondering what important reason Artimus had to talk with her.

Something involving Jenna, perhaps? She couldn't imagine them having problems with their relationship.

_In that respect, they are fortunate._

She continued to wonder. It had to be something they shared in common. Could it be war-related? Then again, Artimus had adjusted to life after the war better than . . .

That's when it hit her. _What else could it be?_

Mireet summoned a quill, ink bottle and piece of parchment with her wand and composed a response.

**XXXXX**

The Golden Wand was crowded and loud with dozens of separate conversations merging into one mass of noise when Mireet entered. A skinny ghost in a rumpled dark suit who acted as maitre d' guided her through the maze of wooden tables to a booth by the window.

"Mireet!" Artimus waved to her.

A smile flashed across her face as she thanked the ghost maitre d' and headed over to him.

"Artimus. It is good to see you." She hugged him and kissed him on both cheeks before sitting across from him. "How is Jenna?"

"Jenna's fine. Busy with work and her classes, but I think she's enjoying going to college. I think after her parents died, she felt she'd never have the chance to do that."

"I'm glad to hear that."

"How are you doing?" He asked as he picked up his menu.

"I am well, thank you."

"And, um, Alain?"

Mireet's lips tightened. She picked up her menu and answered without looking at Artimus. "Alain is fine," she answered quickly.

"Uh-huh." He grimaced, then focused on his menu.

After the waitress took their orders, Mireet folded her hands on the table and locked eyes with Artimus. "So what is this important matter you wish to discuss with me?"

Artimus cleared his throat and shifted in his seat. He gazed out the window for a few moments before looking back at her. "I wanted to talk to you about . . . well, it's about Jimmy, Jared and Rosa."

Her stomach lurched. She'd already guessed this to be the reason Artimus wanted to see her. "What . . . what about them?"

A sullen look came over his face. "They're . . . well, you know how rough things have been for them since the war ended."

"_Oui."_ She nodded.

Artimus' shoulders sagged. He shook his head. "Things are getting really, really bad for them."

Mireet tensed as Artimus informed her about the dilemma of each friend. He didn't have much regarding Jared, except, according to Rosa, he didn't seem happy with his assignment in Thailand. Unfortunately, he hardly kept in contact with anyone. This, in and of itself, was cause for concern. Jared had always been very outgoing and personable.

_At least he was before his mother died._

She froze in shock when Artimus spoke about Rosa. Her family problems had gotten worse as her uncle had sunk deeper into depression, and her cousin Esteban had struck her during an argument. Even a will as strong as Rosa's had its breaking point. Judging from the breakdown she suffered in Artimus' apartment a couple nights ago, she had reached hers.

"And then," Artimus paused for a second. "There's Jimmy."

Tension knotted her entire body at the mention of his name. "You . . . you have heard from him?"

"No, I didn't. But Rosa's mother went to see him in Fort Wayne."

She bit her lip, wanting to ask if Jimmy was all right. But judging from Artimus' expression, she knew the answer.

Her throat constricted as he went on. She couldn't believe it when she learned Jimmy had been arrested by Muggle authorities for, of all things, buying beer for underage girls. What could he have been thinking!?

Not only that, but according to Rosa's mother, Jimmy was apparently drinking . . . a lot!

That sent a shiver up her spine. She had some familiarity with people using alcohol to cope with tragedy. If the same thing was happening to Jimmy . . .

_Merlin help him._

She barely realized that her soup had appeared before her as Artimus went on. "Those three have been there for me so many times, I owe it to them to help them."

"How?"

"I'm still working on that, at least when it comes to Rosa and Jared. But I do have an idea for Jimmy."

"What is it?"

Artimus chewed on his bottom lip. "Well, I was hoping that you might talk to him."

Her chest tightened. "Me?"

"Yeah," he nodded. "From the way Mrs. Infante sounded, Jimmy looks to be in the worst shape right now of them. I mean, he did get arrested, after all."

"What about you? You have known Jimmy longer than me. Shouldn't you talk to him?"

"I don't think I'd know the right words to say. Besides, if he can tell someone like Mrs. Infante to basically get lost, I doubt he's going to listen to anything I have to say."

"And you think he will listen to me instead?"

"Yeah. I mean, well . . ." Artimus shifted again in his seat, pinching a corner of his cloth napkin and rubbing it between his fingers. His eyes flickered between her and the napkin. "He . . . he loves you."

Mireet had to concentrate to keep her jaw from trembling. A torrent of memories swept through her mind, all of them involving Jimmy. One particular memory pushed its way to the forefront. The two of them, standing in a corridor at Hogwarts, as Jimmy told her he was leaving the Wizarding World for good.

"Are you sure you mean 'loves' and not _'loved?'"_

Artimus paused, now clenching his napkin. "Look, I just know when he got back from Hogwarts, he talked about you a lot. He always had that picture of you and him at the Yule Ball on his nightstand, and quite a few times I caught him staring at it. And after everything you two went through during the war . . ." He drew a deep breath. "I just can't imagine he's stopped thinking about you, or caring about you."

"Artimus, I am with somebody. Besides, do you really believe if I see Jimmy, if we actually started a relationship, that would somehow solve all his problems?"

"I'm not asking you to be his girlfriend. I'm just asking you to talk with him, to try and help him. He'll listen to you, I know it."

Mireet leaned back in her seat, exhaling loudly. "As I recall, when he told me he was leaving our world, I asked him not to. I told him it wouldn't solve his problems." An edge crept into her voice. "I told him how much I would miss him if he left. I almost begged him to stay. He did not listen to me then. If he truly loved me, wouldn't he have stayed?"

"Then he made a mistake," Artimus blurted. "Come on, Mireet. None of us have been in our right minds since the war ended."

"You are doing fine."

Artimus snorted. "I wish. I still have nightmares about the war. Not a day goes by when I don't miss Hector. Some days . . ." His jaw stiffened for a moment. "Some days, I forget he's dead. Something happens that I want to tell him about, or I wonder about something and think Hector would be the person to ask, and then I remember he's dead. If it weren't for Jenna, I might be like Jimmy or Rosa or Mr. Diaz right now."

"I don't know if I can do that, be there for him like Jenna is for you. As I said, I am with Alain."

"And how are things going with you two? Are you happy with him?"

Mireet's eyes widened. She couldn't remember Artimus ever being so direct.

His lips tightened, he swallowed and looked down at the table, as though fearful he'd said something inappropriate.

She couldn't decide whether he had or not.

They ate lunch in relative silence. When they finished, Artimus drew a deep breath, his eyes full of desperation. "Mireet, please think about this. I really think you're the only one who can help Jimmy."

She just stared at him, her thoughts jumbled. Jimmy was her friend, more than a friend. But he had abandoned her, abandoned the entire Wizarding World. Perhaps her sister, Monique, had been right when she told her to get over him.

_But we have been through so much together._

She sighed and got to her feet, her eyes still on Artimus. "I . . . just don't know."

His face sagged in defeat.

Tears stung the corners of her eyes. She hated seeing Artimus like this, especially since she had caused it.

_But what can I do?_

She willed the building tears to go away and leaned down to give him a quick peck on the cheek. "Give Jenna my best. I'll . . . I will see you later. Bye, Artimus."

"Yeah. Bye." The crest-fallen expression remained on his face.

Frowning, Mireet turned and exited The Golden Wand.

When she returned to the embassy, an envelope lay on her desk. She picked it up and opened it.

_Mireet,_

_I apologize for yesterday. I hope you have gotten over it. Please see me at your convenience._

_Alain._

She continued staring at the letter and shook her head a little. _How formal._

Like the day before, Mireet had trouble concentrating on work. Artimus' conversation, and her situation with Alain, dominated her mind. She doubted Alain would approve of her going halfway across America to help a man who had been, and quite possibly still, in love with her. She didn't even know if she should do it.

_Why did Artimus ask this of me? _What could she even say to Jimmy to help him?

She didn't respond to Alain's apology, and thankfully, he hadn't come by her desk. Probably because he had some "important" work to do. Just as well. She was too pre-occupied with her thoughts to deal with Alain right now.

When Mireet returned to her apartment, she only managed a few steps inside before staring at her sofa. Her chest tightened as her mind flashed back nearly two years ago. She'd been on that same couch, massaging Jimmy's shoulders, looking forward to an intimate night with him, to the beginning of a future together.

If only that owl had come just few hours later. Maybe things would have been different between them.

She took tentative steps toward the sofa, then stood by it for several seconds before finally sitting down. Her mind replayed her conversation with Artimus. Worry, anger and disappointment swirled inside her, all directed at Jimmy. For her part, confusion dominated her mind. By helping Jimmy, would she be betraying Alain's trust in her?

_How? Even if I did decide to help Jimmy, I would not get involved with him._

_Are you sure?_

She closed her eyes and leaned back in her couch. A minute later she pulled out her wand and cast a Summoning Charm. A large book with a brightly colored cover soared across the room and onto her lap. Hesitating for a moment, she picked up the photo album and flipped through the pages until she came to one titled, "Hogwarts Memories."

She skipped over most of the moving photos until she came to one. A shudder went through her insides as she gazed at herself in a silvery gown and Jimmy in dress robes, an arm around the other's waist, smiling at the camera.

The night of the Yule Ball.

A smile traced her lips. She thought back to that night. The beautiful décor of the Great Hall with silver frost on the walls and mistletoe and ivy adorning the ceiling. The fun they had sitting at the same table with Fred and George and Angelina and Katie. Dancing into the night. The way Jimmy held her when the Weird Sisters played slow songs.

Even five years after the fact, her heart skipped a beat.

Then she recalled what happened after the Yule Ball, when Jimmy walked her back to the Beauxbatons carriage. He had attempted to kiss her, but she told him she didn't want to be in a relationship with him, her heartbreak over Marc-Andre still fresh in her mind.

"_If I let myself fall for you, I know my heart is going to shatter again when you leave. I . . . I'm sorry. I just cannot bear to go through that sort of pain again."_

He had walked away from her with a curt goodnight, looking for all the world like he hated her.

Her heart broke as she watched him storm off toward the castle.

Months later, he broke her heart again when they said good-bye their last day at Hogwarts. As much as she tried to deny it, she had fallen in love with him. Though she never acted on her feelings, leaving him behind, thinking she'd never see him again, hurt so very much.

Then last summer, when he told her he was leaving the Wizarding World and everyone in it. More heartbreak.

And if she went to Fort Wayne to help him and failed, if he just spiraled further down the same black hole as Rosa and her uncle, she knew what would happen to her.

How many times could she let Jimmy O'Bannon break her heart?

Then another memory popped into her head. The night the Death Eaters ambushed her outside her apartment. She had Apparated to Jimmy's encampment, bloodied and weak. She'd had passed out in front of him. Fear of death gripped her soul, along with another fear. How would it affect Jimmy if he watched her die in front of him?

When she regained consciousness, her injuries treated, the first thing she saw was Jimmy staring down at her, holding her hand. The look in his eyes, the expression on his face. It was at that moment that she knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, Jimmy truly, deeply loved her.

He had been there for her during the gravest night of her life. How could she not be there for him in his hour of need?

_And what of Alain?_

She knew what might happen if she went to help Jimmy. If she succeeded in helping him, there was a chance they might . . .

She chewed on her lower lip. _Would that be fair to Alain?_

Mireet thought back to the other day, their argument after lunch. That hadn't been their first argument. Then again, all couples argue.

But it was more than just that one argument. She closed her eyes and thought back over the last several months. At first, she thought Alain acted like an absolute gentleman. He still did, most times. She felt like he cared about her. But his career always came first, while many times she felt she came second to him, and a very distant second at that.

He also never seemed happy, even when things went his way at work. He also disregarded every idea, every piece of advice, that came out of her mouth. She might not be right about everything, but Alain could at least respect her opinion. And it aggravated her so much when he talked down to her like she was a child.

For all his faults, Jimmy had never been condescending toward her, always had the courtesy to listen to her views and treated her with respect.

Plus, he also knew how to enjoy himself.

Her sister had told her the last time she was home in France that she needed to find herself a practical man to settle down with. All well and good, but shouldn't that man also be someone who made her happy as well?

Mireet stiffened her jaw. She had to ask herself one question.

_Can I see myself spending the rest of my life with Alain?_

It took all of two seconds for her to come up with the answer.

_No._

She asked herself the same question again, only this time she replaced Alain with Jimmy.

She found she couldn't answer it, not until she saw Jimmy in person. Not until he resolved his problems, if he could.

_What if I help him and we still do not end up together?_ Dread swelled within her. Hadn't her heart suffered enough?

She then thought back to that last day at Hogwarts, sitting in the carriage as it soared into the air, looking back down at the castle. Regret had overwhelmed her. She let the memory of her break-up with Marc-Andre rule her, deny her even a few months of happiness, of love, with Jimmy.

She never forgave herself for that stupidity.

Mireet exhaled slowly. She still feared yet another heartache, but she feared a lifetime of regret even more.

_**TO BE CONTINUED**_


	54. Hat Tricks And Heartache

**CHAPTER 54: HAT TRICKS AND HEARTACHES**

* * *

Nervous tendrils squeezed Mireet's chest and slithered into her stomach as she stared at the building in front of her. She barely noted the concrete structure's pointed roof, multitude of angles and two large rows of glass windows, her mind dominated by her purpose for being her.

Dread kept her feet rooted to the spot. She wanted to imagine Jimmy being happy at seeing her. She wanted to picture him apologizing for leaving her, leaving the whole Wizarding World.

Instead she could only think of how he had yelled at Rosa's mother after she freed him from jail, saying he didn't need any help from, "you wand wavers!"

A shiver went through her, one that had nothing to do with the chilly night air. Jimmy had always considered Mrs. Infante like a family member. If he could say such a hurtful thing to Rosa' mother, what might he say to her?

Fear clutched her soul. Fear she would suffer another heartbreak. Her stomach quivered as she thought back to that horrible day Marc-Andre broke up with her, the day both she and Jimmy left Hogwarts to return to their native countries, and day Jimmy told her he was leaving the Wizarding World forever. She recalled the shock. The sadness. The feeling she'd never be happy again.

She hated going through that. And now she risked subjecting herself to it all again.

_I promised Artimus. And if Jimmy is truly in trouble, I cannot turn my back on him._

Drawing a breath, she started across the parking lot toward the Allen County War Memorial Coliseum.

Mireet asked a paunchy middle-aged man in a bright yellow jacket bearing the words EVENT STAFF where she could purchase tickets. He pointed her toward the corner of the arena, where she stood in line for a few minutes before reaching a large window with three women behind it. Mireet made sure she had the proper amount of Muggle money before handing it over to one of them.

Ticket in hand, she stood in yet another line leading to the front entrance. She drummed her fingers against her leg, the worry building. She tried to picture in her mind what she would say when she saw Jimmy. What would he say? How would she react if he yelled at her?

Another image formed in her mind, one more of wishful thinking. She imagined Jimmy striding up to her, cupping her face in his hands, and giving her a long, deep kiss.

A flicker of guilt went through her. She had broken up with Alain just two days ago, yet here she was already thinking about being in the arms of another man.

Mireet quashed that feeling of guilt. Her break-up with Alain was a long time coming. Still, it astounded her that he acted so surprised.

"I do not understand. I have treated you decently. I have helped you at work, I have given you all sorts of advice."

"Listen to yourself, Alain," she had answered him. "You are speaking to me as though I am someone who works for you, instead of as your girlfriend."

Alain had cast his gaze to the ceiling for a few moments. "Does this have to do with the argument we had about that hockey game? Because if that is the case, it seems a rather trivial thing."

"See? That is the problem. All my concerns, in fact, every word that comes out of my mouth, is trivial to you."

"You are being irrational. You need to calm down, then we can talk -"

"I have tried talking to you for months, but you never want to listen. I'm sorry. Good-bye, Alain."

She left his apartment, not even taking one last look back at him.

"Ticket?"

The usher's voice snapped her back to the present.

"What? Oh, yes. Sorry."

She handed the usher her ticket. Her eyes widened as the man waved a stick-like device over her ticket. When it beeped, he handed the ticket back to her.

"_Merci,"_ she muttered, still staring at the device. She couldn't help but smile. Merlin, but Muggles could be ingenious.

Mireet entered the concourse. Many people walked to and fro, while others stood to the side in small clusters, a good number of those drinking from dark bottles. She scanned the clothes they wore and winced. The vast majority wore T-shirts or jerseys with the Fort Wayne Komets logo. She glanced down at her overcoat, thinking of the hand-knitted powder blue sweater and dark slacks she wore beneath it. Would that make her stick out as someone who didn't belong?

Her worry eased when she noticed other Muggles wearing casual outfits or suitcoats that didn't bear the Komets' colors or logo.

Removing her coat and folding it over her arm, she proceeded through the concourse. The smells of butter and melted cheese and fried potatoes wafted past her nose. Mireet turned and scanned one of the concession stands. Her eyes widened when she saw clear plastic cases for large pretzels and cookies. Another large case was filled with popcorn. One person walked away from the stand carrying a cardboard bowl containing round, yellowish chips covered in gooey, orange cheese.

Any other time she would have sampled some of this Muggle food. Tonight, however, her nerves twisted her stomach so badly the mere sight of it made her nauseous.

She quickly walked away.

While she didn't buy any food, she did purchase a game program. Checking the table of contents, Mireet flipped to the pages with the player profiles.

Her chest tightened when she got to one page in particular.

_#48 Jimmy O'Bannon_

_Pos. RW_

_Height: 5'10_

_Weight: 175 lbs_

_Hometown: Boston, MA_

_Career: Discovered at open tryout by the Boston Bruins. Referred to Komets by Bruins player development office._

Her eyes locked on his photo. Even though she had more experience in the Muggle World than the average pureblood, she still couldn't get over looking at a photograph that didn't move. Jimmy's round, handsome face was just there. But even in that still picture she could sense an air of unhappiness. Jimmy only managed a half-smile, and a rather forced one at that.

She sighed and gently slid the tip of her index finger over his photo.

With the help of another usher, she eventually found her seat, located halfway up from the ice surface near the north end of the arena. Mireet had the entire row to herself until four young men shuffled their way toward her. The one in the lead, a husky boy with a stubbly face, talked loudly and animatedly to his three friends.

"So I'm like screaming, 'dude, do you know where it is or what?'" He waved his arms as he plopped into the seat next to her. "And he's all like, 'Duh, I think I do.' And I'm like, 'Man, you're a freakin' idiot."

All four young men laughed.

The stubbly-faced one turned to her, still laughing. His smile widened and he nodded at her. "Hey. How are you doing?"

"I am fine, thank you."

"Whoa! Cool accent. You, like, French or something?"

Mireet closed her eyes, groaning to herself. _"Oui._"

"Dude, cool!" For some reason, he let out a laugh.

_Will I have to sit next to him for the entire game?_

"Hey, I'm Chris, and that's Zach, Don and Luke."

The other three responded, "Hey." "Yo." "Wassup!"

"So you here by yourself, or you -"

"My boyfriend is one of the players for the Komets." The words tumbled out of her mouth. She prayed that would put an end to his advances.

"Oh. Well, he ain't here right now. And you know, I used to play football in high school. I mean _real _football, not what they call soccer over there in Europe. So maybe -"

Mireet snapped her head toward Chris. Her eyes narrowed. "My boyfriend and I are very serious and are likely to be married. He is the only man I am interested in. Now if you please, I wish to be left alone."

She turned away from him, her eyes focused intently at the section across from her.

"Fine." Chris slumped in his seat. Under his breath, he muttered, "Snotty frog bitch."

Mireet felt her cheeks redden. She clenched a fist, fighting down the urge to pull out her wand and hex this lout. It took a couple breaths for her to settle down. She had fought Death Eaters during the war. What did insults from this crass ape mean to her?

She sat quietly in her seat, trying to ignore Chris and his friends as they prattled on about Merlin only knew what. Thankfully, they left her alone.

Minutes later, the referee and linesman skated onto the ice to a chorus of boos.

"HERE ARE TONIGHT'S STARTERS FOR THE VISITING KALAMAZOO WINGS," the P/A announcer's voice boomed through the arena. "AT CENTER, NUMBER SIXTEEN, DENNIS HOLT."

"SUCKS!!" the Fort Wayne fans hollered in unison.

Mireet drew her head back in surprise. She's witnessed her fair share of crude behavior at Quidditch matches throughout Europe, but they usually took place during play, not before.

The fans did the same to Kalamazoo's remaining starters, adding, "Sucks!" after they were introduced.

The lights dimmed. A sharp, dramatic drumbeat filled the arena. Thousands of Muggles got to their feet, clapping and cheering.

"AND NOW, IT'S TIME TO INTRODUCE THE STARTING LINE-UP FOR YOUR FORT WAYNE KOMETS!!!"

The cheering grew louder. Mireet applauded as each orange and white-clad player was introduced. All the while she held her breath, waiting to hear Jimmy's name.

To her disappointment, he wasn't in the starting line-up.

"AND HERE ARE THE REST OF YOUR FORT WAYNE KOMETS!"

More players in white and orange jerseys skated onto the ice. Her eyes darted about, trying to find . . .

There! Mireet finally spotted Number 48, and the name O'BANNON inscribed on the back. She held a hand over her chest, feeling her heart pound furiously. For the first time in nearly nine months, she laid eyes on Jimmy O'Bannon.

After the national anthem and the ceremonial first puck drop, the game got underway. Her eyes constantly darted from the action to the Komets bench, waiting for Jimmy to come out.

She didn't wait long. Less than a minute into the game, a fresh line took to the ice, a line that included Number 48.

She clutched her hands tightly in her lap, her focus on Jimmy as he skated up and down the ice, passing the puck to a teammate, or trying to poke it away from an opponent. Her breaths came quickly.

_Please do well. Please do well._

Another thought punched through her nervous wishes.

_Why are you cheering for him? He left you!_

_He had problems. We can resolve them._

_What if you can't? What if he hurts you again?_

She closed her eyes, trying to purge the negative thoughts from her mind.

A horn blared through the arena.

Mireet's eyes snapped open. Five men in blue and red jerseys gathered in a group hug behind the net on the far side of the rink. She frowned and looked up at the scoreboard. It read WINGS 1, KOMETS 0.

The large screen across from her came to life, showing an old man with a reddened face shaking his fists and bellowing, "I want you to get up out of your seat, go to window and shout at the top of your lungs, I'm mad as hell, and I'm not gonna take it anymore!"

She found the display amusing, and hoped it would inspire Jimmy and the rest of the Komets.

The game progressed. Every time Jimmy took to the ice, Mireet gripped her hands tight. Nervous tremors wracked her body. She prayed for him to do well.

_Does he even remember you?_

She clenched her teeth. She hated these doubts that suddenly popped into her head. Even worse, she could hear her sister saying those words.

_That should come as no surprise._ Monique seemed determined not to like Jimmy before she even met him.

"Must you always talk about this American?" she complained one day during the summer after she'd been to Hogwarts. "He is on the other side of the ocean now. You will probably never see him again."

_That shows how much you know, my dear sister._

Cheers suddenly erupted. Below her Komets and Wings players converged around the net. One of the Komets players skated around a Wings player, then passed the puck.

It hit off a Wings player's stick, but ricocheted over to a Komets player. He took a look at the net, faked a shot, then passed it to . . .

_Jimmy!_

He fired a one-timer at the net.

The horn blared. The red light behind the goal lit up. The crowd roared.

Mireet yelped and shot to her feet, jumping up and down and clapping as Jimmy's teammates mobbed him.

The fans performed another unified taunt.

"HE SHOOTS, HE SCORES, HEY GOALIE, YOU SUCK!!"

A couple minutes later the P/A announcer burst out, "FORT WAYNE KOMETS GOAL SCORED BY NUMBER FORTY-EIGHT, JIM-EEEEEEEEE O'BANNON!!"

Mireet grinned wide and cheered with the rest of the Komets fans. Joy surged through her. She remembered all those times Jimmy talked about how he dreamed of playing professional hockey. And here he was, doing it, succeeding at it.

_Yes, be proud of the man who left you, left our entire world._

Mireet snorted at the nagging voice.

_I am willing to forgive him._

The Wings regained the lead with less than five minutes to go in the period. Then with under two minutes left, one of the Komets players got called for slashing, giving the Wings a power play.

The Komets managed to clear the puck down the ice, allowing a fresh line to come on . . . a line that included Jimmy.

The Wings worked the puck back up ice, two of their skaters passing back and forth to each other. But one of those passes got too far ahead of the player it was intended for. He reached out with his stick. The puck hit off the tip of the blade and trickled away.

Jimmy swooped in, took the puck and shot down the ice.

"Go, Jimmy!" Mireet sprang out of her seat, along with thousands of other fans. "Go!"

The cheers intensified as he neared the Kalamazoo net. The goaltender crouched, ready.

Jimmy leaned right, swerved left, and shot.

The horn blared.

A deafening roar filled the arena. Mireet added her voice to it to celebrate Jimmy's second goal of the night.

Her nervousness faded throughout the first intermission and into the second period. She delighted in Jimmy's performance. While he didn't score in the middle frame, he assisted on another Komets goal and made two bone-jarring hits on Wings players that brought the crowd to its feet. Mireet's heart started another rapid beat, this time fueled by excitement rather than nerves. She was completely wrapped up in the game. Memories of the Triad/Slytherin game ran through her mind. Merlin, what she wouldn't give to be down there on the ice right now, in the middle of that speed and frenzy and physicality.

To be playing with Jimmy.

A huge smile spread across her face as the second period ended with the score Fort Wayne Komets 3, Kalamazoo Wings 2. She had a feeling tonight's meeting with Jimmy would be a good one.

The Wings tied the score early in the third period, but the Komets came back a minute later to regain the lead. Three minutes later the Komets scored again, with Jimmy getting credit for an assist.

Halfway through the period, the Komets were on the power play, passing the puck back and forth before Jimmy fired a slapshot at the net. The puck flew into the top corner of the net.

"Yes!" Mireet threw her arms in the air as cheers exploded throughout the arena. Round objects of all colors spiraled through the air and landed on the ice. Ballcaps. Dozens of ballcaps. She smiled, remembering Jimmy telling her about this tradition.

"FORT WAYNE KOMETS GOAL, HIS THIRD OF THE NIGHT FOR THE HAT TRICK, SCORED BY NUMBER FORTY-EIGHT, JIM-EEEEEE O'BANNON!!"

Mireet clapped so hard her hands stung. She even joined the rest of the crowd in chanting, "HE SHOOTS, HE SCORES, HEY GOALIE, YOU SUCK!!"

Fort Wayne scored again three minutes later and ultimately went on to win 6-3. She smiled wide, cheering and clapping with unbridled enthusiasm as Jimmy and the rest of the Komets skated to center ice and lifted their sticks to salute the crowd. Tears of joy welled up in her eyes as she watched several Fort Wayne players skating around Jimmy, slapping his shoulders and head. A minute after the Komets exited the ice, the three stars of the game were announced. Elation consumed her as Jimmy was chosen as the number one star. He skated back onto the ice, holding up his stick and waving to the ecstatic fans. Even from this distance she could make out his smile.

_It is time._ She clasped her hands in front of her as she watched Jimmy skate off the ice. The nervous tension returned, stabbing her stomach. She did her best to ignore it, confident Jimmy's good mood would make their meeting easier, and more pleasant, than she originally feared.

Mireet followed the fans down the concrete steps and back out into the concourse. She headed to the far end of the arena, where several people gathered around a small roped off runway leading to the locker room. Two yellow jacketed security guards stood on either side of the entrance. It didn't appear they were letting fans inside. Of course, even at Quidditch matches fans couldn't go into the players' changing rooms.

A trio of young, attractive women approached the security guards, one of them holding a small child no older than three by the hand. One of the women held up a flat, rectangular object hanging around her neck to a security guard. The man nodded and let them through.

That gave her an idea.

She walked toward one of the concession stands and spotted a stack of colorful fliers advertising upcoming events at the Allen County War Memorial Coliseum. She picked up one and stepped into an alcove leading to the women's restroom. Checking to make sure no one saw her, she took out her wand and cast a Perception Altering Charm on the flier. Pocketing her wand, she strode over to the locker room entrance. As she approached the guard, she held up the flier. The man eyed it, saw it as the appropriate credentials, and let her through.

Mireet walked down a hallway lined with rubber mats. A group of women, with a few young children mixed in, stood along the wall, chatting away. _Wives and children of the players, perhaps?_ She leaned a shoulder against the wall some distance from the others, watching the locker room, waiting for Jimmy to emerge. She tried to fight off the anxiety that tried to overwhelm her. She rehearsed in her mind the things she'd say to him, fretting over each word, worrying if her approach would be too soft or too hard. Scared he'd yell at her the way he did Rosa's mother.

_No. Tonight was a good night for him. He'll be happy, and hopefully more receptive._

A couple men exited the locker room, dressed in casual slacks and jackets. One of them, a tall, dark-haired man, nodded to the women and children and headed down the hallway.

_He's obviously single._

As the man neared her, she took a step toward him. "Excuse me, _Monsieur."_

The man stopped, his eyes widening for a second before they quickly scanned her up and down. "Yeah," he said cheerfully. "What can I do for you?"

"You are one of the Komets, I assume?"

"That's right. Simon DuPage." He stuck out his hand.

Mireet smiled and shook it. "It's nice to meet you. I am here to see Jimmy O'Bannon. Do you know where he is?"

Disappointment flashed briefly over Simon's face. His smile quickly returned. "Yeah, he's back in the locker room doing some interviews. Guy had a big night tonight, what with the hat trick."

"_Oui, _he played well."

Simon nodded, his smile growing as he looked her up and down again. "I'll head back there and let him know you're looking for him. He shouldn't be long."

"_Merci."_

Simon went back to the locker room. Mireet's heartbeat picked up as she kept staring down the hall. She slowly grinded her heel into the rubber mat beneath her, waiting, wondering how the meeting would go.

She tensed every time the locker room door opened. So far Jimmy hadn't been among the players who exited. She ignored the stares the men gave her, maintaining her vigil.

The door opened again. Somewhere from the inside she heard a muffled shout of, "O'Bannon you stud!"

The breath caught in her throat when she saw a lean, brown-haired young man emerge and holler over his shoulder, "Aw, knock it off."

She thought the entire arena could hear her pounding heart as Jimmy headed down the hallway. Her stomach knotted when their eyes met. Jimmy slowed his pace, eventually stopping a few meters from her, his eyes alight with shock.

A heavy silence hung between them. Mireet tried to say something, but her vocal cords refused to work. Merlin's beard, she was actually face-to-face with Jimmy.

"Mah . . . Mireet?" He finally stammered.

"Hello, Jimmy. How are you?"

"Um, fine." He kept gazing at her, unable to blink. "You?"

"I am well, thank you."

His mouth hung open silently for a couple of seconds. "Wha . . . What are you doing here?"

"I have not seen you in a long time. I missed you."

"I, uh, I missed you, too."

Mireet bit her lower lip. Did he say that for the sake of talking, or did he really mean it? She found it hard to tell from his tone. "Is there some place we can talk? Alone?"

"Yeah. Yeah, there is. Follow me."

Jimmy led her back toward the exit, then veered to the right and opened a door leading to a small room with an elevated table, a couple chairs, and a pair of lockers.

"The on-duty paramedics hang out in here during the game." He explained. "They all woulda cleared out of here a while ago."

She stared at him, just stared at him. Memories and emotions swirled inside her. The Yule Ball. Their last day at Hogwarts. Seeing him again on the beach at Normandy. That night in her apartment, before . . . before the letter arrived. The day he said good-bye to her, how she thought she'd never see him again.

And now here they were, face-to-face, after all these months . . .

She sprang at him and threw her arms around him. Tears flooded her eyes as she hugged him tight. Tingles raced through her body as she felt Jimmy's arms around her, his head pressing against her hair.

She had no idea how long they embraced before releasing one another. They stared at one another again, exchanging awkward smiles. Mireet tried to think of something to say. She'd had so many speeches worked out before she saw him. Now every single one of them had vanished into the ethereal vapors.

Jimmy, thankfully, spared her. "So, um, you saw the game?"

"_Oui. _You played well tonight."

"Thanks. My first professional hat trick. The boys actually got the puck from my third goal. This was my best game all season."

"I am glad to hear that."

Jimmy glanced down at the floor, working his jaw back and forth. "So . . . what? You decided to come all the way out here to Indiana just to see how I'm doing?"

"It has been nine months since I last saw you, since any of us has seen you, or heard from you. None of us has received a single Floo call or an owl letting us know how you are doing."

Jimmy sighed. "I'm sorry, but I told you, I had to get out of the Wizarding World. It just got too much. At work, walking through Haypippil Square, even in my own apartment, everywhere I turned there was something to remind me of the war, of all the people we lost. I had to go some place where there wouldn't be anything to remind me of all that."

"And have you been successful?"

A pause. "Yeah. Yeah, I have."

Mireet tilted her head, unconvinced. "And everything is all right with you?"

"Yeah, I told you. I'm fine."

"Then why were you arrested by the Muggle authorities?"

Jimmy's eyes widened. He looked away, embarrassment settling over his face. "How did you find out?"

"Artimus told me." She shook her head. "Buying beer for Muggle girls not of age. Who were these girls, anyway?"

"Just some girls I ran into outside this convenience store."

"And you just happened to buy them beer?"

Jimmy slouched to his left. "C'mon, I had a bad game, these girls were going to a party and they invited me along. I figured, what the hell? I needed to do something to forget about the ass-kicking we just had."

"And because of that, Rosa's mother had to come here to free you from jail. And how did you thank her? By insulting her. Jimmy, that is not like you."

"Hey, I'm not the same person you met five years ago at Hogwarts." The corners of Jimmy's mouth twisted. "After everything we went through, none of us are the same people we once were."

"Is that your excuse for being arrested? For yelling at the mother of one of your best friends?"

"Okay, I made a mistake." He threw his hands up. "I'm sorry. Heck, you can tell Mrs. Infante from me that I'm sorry."

"You need to tell her that yourself."

"Well that I can't do." Jimmy frowned.

Mireet took a step closer to him. "Is it so difficult for you to return to our world, even for a little while? There are many people who miss you, who care about you . . . including me."

Jimmy's jaw tightened for a moment. "Look. I made my decision to leave the Wizarding World. I've got a good thing going here. I'm making a living playing a game I love. And I've gotten by without a wand or a broom or potions or owls delivering my mail for nearly a year. You know something? I don't miss magic at all. All I want is for you and everyone else from that world to leave me alone and let me do what I want. After everything I did during the war, I think I've earned that right."

"Does that include the right to act irresponsibly?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Jimmy's eyes narrowed.

"Going to jail." Mireet put her hands on her hips.

Jimmy groaned. "I told you. It was a mistake. Besides, I got out of it thanks to Mrs. Infante."

"She won't always be there to solve your problems. She also believes you are drinking more than you should."

"She needs to stop worrying so much."

"Is it true?"

Jimmy rolled his eyes. "Okay, so I have a few beers every now and then. Sometimes it helps me relax, especially after a bad game. What, that makes me an alcoholic?"

"There are better ways to relax than getting drunk." An edge crept into Mireet's voice.

"Oh c'mon. It's not like I'm walking around with a flask in my hand all day long."

"I am worried about you. Is that so hard for you to accept? You say you are fine, but after getting arrested, and the way you treated Rosa's mother, I do not believe you." She reached out and gently grasped his wrist. "I . . . you are one of my dearest friends. If you are having problems, I want to help."

"I don't have any problems." He backed away, breaking her hold. "I told you, the whole getting arrested thing was just a mistake. I learned my lesson, okay? I don't need anyone's help. I'm a big boy now, I can take care of myself. So you can go back and tell Mrs. Infante and Artimus and everyone else they can stop worrying. Jimmy O'Bannon is doing fine on his own."

She held her breath as Jimmy walked past her toward the door. She turned around just as he put his hand on the knob, and paused. Hope flickered in her.

_Please stay. Please talk to me._

"Mireet, I . . ." He started to turn to her. "It was . . ." His shoulders slumped. He turned back toward the door. "Bye, Mireet."

Jimmy left the room, closing the door behind him.

Mireet's throat tightened. The air around her turned thick, threatening to suffocate her. She felt all hope and joy being sucked out of her body.

It was happening again. Her heart was breaking.

_I failed. I . . ._

She swallowed, pushing down the hurt, focusing on those last few seconds before Jimmy left. He had paused. He had wanted to keep talking. She could feel it. Perhaps he did want help, but his stupid male pride wouldn't allow him to ask.

Mireet drew a couple deep breaths. She would not admit defeat yet. Not when it came to a man she cared about.

Not when it came to the man she loved.

_**TO BE CONTINUED**_


	55. Rock Bottom

**CHAPTER 55: ROCK BOTTOM**

* * *

_How many is it gonna take before I forget?_

O'Bannon slammed the crushed, empty beer can into the garbage can. He stomped toward the counter next to the kitchen sink, where an open cardboard case of beer rested. He snatched out another can, his fourth since he got home from the arena, and cracked it open. Head craned back, he poured the cool, tingly liquid down his throat. Already the edges of his mind felt fuzzy. Not that it helped get rid of the memories, and all the emotions that went with them.

He pictured himself in bed with Tonks, who moaned softly as he kissed her neck.

He remembered the Halloween Dance at Salem, his first kiss with Rana Rollingsworth.

Then he imagined them lying on the ground dead.

_Why them? Why did they have to die?_

He drained the rest of his beer, hoping the memories would go away.

They didn't.

O'Bannon grabbed another beer and started drinking it. More ghosts materialized in his mind's eye. Mrs. Diaz. Fred Weasley. Hector Rand. Remus Lupin. Gregory Lancemore. Colin Creevey.

_Damn you, Mireet!_ He clenched his jaw, not believing he could have such a thought. But if she hadn't shown up out of the blue tonight, he wouldn't be dwelling on the war in that other world. He'd been having a great night. He was utterly stoked after his performance against Kalamazoo. He could have had a very peaceful sleep.

Not now, though, thanks to Mireet.

He'd drained half his can when O'Bannon heard a knock at the door. He cocked an eyebrow. It couldn't be Simon. Why would his roommate knock when he had a key?

The person knocked again, a more insistent knock.

Groaning, he tramped down the little hallway and opened the door.

Mireet stood in front of him.

"What are you . . . How did you know where I live?"

"I cast a Locator Charm on you."

O'Bannon frowned. "So much for the right to privacy." He reached around the door and gripped the knob.

"May I come in?" Mireet asked.

His fingers tightened around the doorknob. Part of him was tempted to slam the door in her face. But looking in her, thinking of everything they'd been through, the feelings he'd had for her, he couldn't bring himself to do it.

He grunted and stepped aside, letting her in. After pushing the door shut, he brushed past her and stalked back to the apartment's kitchenette.

"What'd you want?" he asked without looking over his shoulder at her.

"How much have you had to drink?"

O'Bannon scowled. "Not enough." He took a swig from his can.

"Enough to what?"

He glanced at Mireet, whose harsh gaze switched from the case of beer to him. Shoulders slumped, he plodded into the living room. "To forget."

"Forget what?" Mireet followed him.

"What'd you think?" He spun around, arms out to his side. "The same damn things I've been trying to forget about for the past year. Like going to Hogwarts and saying to Albus Friggin' Dumbledore, 'What? Voldemort's back!? Hell yeah, sign me up for that war. After all, I'm just sixteen, I don't know any better. Then of course, there's me almost getting my limbs ripped off by a Constrictus Curse in Ovenderburg, almost getting chewed up by Chupacabra, almost getting crushed by a giant, threatening one little girl to save the life of another, having a former classmate of mine zap me with a Torture Curse, and then smashing said former classmate's face into ground meat with a rock."

"Jimmy . . ." Mireet took a step closer to him.

He ignored her. "And let's not forget all the people who died. "Tonks. Rana. Fred. Mrs. Diaz. Hector. Hey, what about Cindy Walker? Top of the class at Salem. What does she get for it? Murdered by a bunch of scumbag Death Eaters, just because she's a Muggle-born. Yeah, I'm trying to forget all that, and I wouldn't have to try and forget about all that crap if you'da just stayed in your own world."

Mireet bit her lower lip. When she spoke, it was in a deliberate tone. "I do not believe you have not thought about those things before tonight. And how can you forget about them? I cannot forget about everything that happened during the war. Nor should we forget, especially not our friends who died. We owe it to Fred and Mrs. Diaz and the Rollingsworths to keep their memories alive."

"Their memories? To hell with their memories. I want _them _to be alive." O'Bannon took another swig from his can.

"Do you honestly believe _that _will solve your problems?" Mireet gave a sharp nod to his beer.

"It does make things better."

"No it doesn't." Mireet quickly closed the distance between them. "It will only make things worse."

"Yeah, and how would you know?"

"Because I have seen it for myself." She poked herself in the chest with a finger. Her jaw quivered for a moment before she continued. "After the first war, when . . . when my brother was killed, my father blamed himself for his death. He, too, sought comfort in drinking. Eventually, it took over his life. When . . . when I six, my mother had me take a Muggle ballet class. On the night of my first recital, my father couldn't come, because he drank himself to the point he became sick."

Mireet looked down at the floor, her face tightening, as if trying not to cry. "I remember when we got home, my mother was yelling at my father. Monique took me back to my room and closed the door, but I could still hear my mother. She even threatened to leave him if he did not stop drinking."

"And after that, all was well, I take it."

"No." An edge crept into Mireet's voice. "That didn't get him to stop drinking. It took his brother, my uncle, to die before he finally stopped."

O'Bannon's brow furrowed, wondering what she meant by that.

Mireet continued. "My Uncle Theophile went through terrible things during the first war. His drinking was worse than my father's. He lost his job, his family left him, he wound up sleeping in alleys. That's where he died. In an alley, under a pile of rubbish. He'd been dead for three days before anyone found him."

"Well that's not gonna happen to me."

The skin between Mireet's thin eyebrows crinkled. "I am sure that's what my Uncle Theophile thought, too. And look what happened to him."

"I can handle it." O'Bannon jabbed a thumb at his chest. "I'm in control."

He shot past Mireet, slammed his empty can on the counter, and pulled another beer from the case.

"You call that being in control?" Mireet folded her arms.

"Oh, knock it off. I don't drink like this all the time, okay? Crap, I pound back a few brews and you think I'm gonna croak in some alley like your uncle."

He turned away from Mireet and slipped his index finger under the can's pull tab.

Footsteps pounded behind him. A hand reached out and yanked the beer from him.

"What the hell!?"

Mireet stomped toward the sink and cracked open the beer. "You may not care if you drink yourself to death, but I do!"

She poured the beer into the sink.

"Hey! Give that back, dammit!" He lunged toward her, clamping his hand around the can . . . and Mireet's fingers. "Give it!"

Mireet clenched her jaw, fighting to keep hold of the can.

"I said give it!" O'Bannon wrenched the can from Mireet's grip.

"Ow!" Mireet drew her hand back and clutched her index finger.

"What the hell's wrong with you!?" He made a fist with his free hand. "Where the hell do you . . ."

His jaw froze when he saw Mireet wincing in pain, still grasping her finger. He also noticed a spot of red on her fingertip.

Blood.

Pain. Blood. On Mireet. He had . . .

A cold blade pierced his gut.

_I did . . . I hurt . . . no. I can't . . ._

He felt his left hand, still clenched in a fist. Dread paralyzed him. He replayed the outburst in his hazy mind. At first he couldn't accept it, didn't want to accept it. But for the briefest of instants, and at the peak of his fury, he had actually wanted to hit Mireet.

_How can I . . . no. No way! I don't hit women. Guys who hit women are pondscum. That's not me. I wouldn't hurt . . ._

He refocused on Mireet, who was massaging her finger, her face a mixture of pain and anger.

_Oh my God. I hurt her. I hurt Mireet._

The beer can slipped from O'Bannon's hand and clattering on the floor. He opened his mouth, trying to apologize. A thick mass of shame clogged his mouth and spilled down to his soul.

He turned away, slowly walking to the other side of the living room on shaky legs.

"Jimmy." Mireet's voice floated across the living room. "You have a problem. I want to help."

He swallowed, then clenched his teeth. _Don't show weakness. _He hadn't done it during the war. Too many people depended on him.

People like Mireet.

_Be strong._

"I don't have a problem," he muttered.

"You do. Jimmy, the war was hard on everyone. You are no exception. There is no shame in admitting that, admitting that you need help."

"I don't!" He whirled around to face her. "I don't need help! I'm strong! Everyone needs me to be strong! I have to be strong!"

Quakes tore through his body. The ghosts of dead friends and lovers pounded his mind. Tonks. Rana. Fred. Hector. Gregory. Colin. My God, he missed them so much.

"I have to be strong!" His voice cracked. Tears stung his eyes. He gazed at Mireet, thinking about the two of them at the Yule Ball. The night he spent by her bedside when he thought she might die. And just a minute ago, when he yanked the beer from her hand, hurting her.

He loved her, and he hurt her.

"I have to be . . . to be . . ."

Tears streamed down his cheeks. His trembling legs gave out. He fell to the floor with a thud, pressing his back against the couch. A sob burst from his throat, then another. Soon he was and bawling. Curled up and crying like he was four-years-old.

Something enveloped him. Through his tear-blurred eyes he saw Mireet, then felt her as she wrapped him up in an embrace. He threw his arms around her, pulling her tight against his trembling body.

"I'm so messed up, Mireet," he sniffled. "I'm so messed up."

She slowly stroked his hair, then placed a gentle kiss on top of his head. "I'm here, Jimmy. It'll be all right. It'll be all right."

He buried his face into Mireet's shoulder and kept crying.

_**TO BE CONTINUED**_


	56. Collapse

**CHAPTER 56: COLLAPSE**

* * *

Jared Diaz shut his eyes tight and grimaced. An invisible vise threatened to crush his brain. Hadn't he taken a damn Headache Ridding Potion when he woke up this morning, as he had done every day for the past two weeks?

_Go away. Go away._

Someone cleared their throat near him. Slowly, he lifted his throbbing head.

Tasanee stood next to him, her face a tight mask. She clutched a handful of parchment.

"Yeah?" he groaned.

"I finished compiling our findings. It looks like we have a comprehensive curriculum for an early Khmer wizarding school."

She dropped the pile of parchment on the table in front of him. He stared at it, then up at Tasanee. He debated whether or not to thank her.

Before he could finally decide, she turned on her heel and strode back to the far end of the work tent.

Jared slouched in his chair, frowning. He thought back to the blow up he had with Tasanee – how long ago had it been? He lowered his chin to his chest. Guilt tore at him.

_I should apologize._

_What, and have her go back to bugging me about all the crap going on back home?_

_I didn't mean to make her feel bad, or hate me._

Fists of pain battered his head. He rubbed his temples, then slowly pushed himself to his feet.

_I need some air._

Jared tromped out of the tent, the hot, sticky air wrapping around him. He kept rubbing his temples as he walked around the side of the tent.

"You're an idiot, you know that?"

He spun around, and gasped in surprise when he came face-to-face with Rosa.

"Wha . . . What are you doing here?"

"Telling you're an idiot."

He let out an annoyed breath. "You've been telling me that since we were four."

"This time I really mean it."

Jared rolled his eyes. "So how did I screw up this time?"

Rosa put her hands on her hips. "Tasanee."

He sighed, the corners of his mouth twisting. "What about her?"

Rosa snorted and shook her head. "Don't you think you should apologize to her?"

His chest tightened as he stared at his cousin, who should be back in the U.S. working in the Aurors Bureau, shouldn't she? "I don't know. Heck, why should I? I say I'm sorry, and she'll just go back to bugging me about our family."

"Did you ever wonder why she keeps asking you about it?"

He stood silent for several seconds, then shrugged.

Rosa rolled her eyes. "Maybe it's because, for some incomprehensible reason, she actually gives a damn about you."

"Why?"

"I don't know. Maybe she just happens to be a nice person. But you wouldn't know that because you keep treating her like crap."

"I do not," Jared snapped.

"Oh no? All the times you told her to mind her own business, or all the times you tried to ignore her? And, of course, there was the day your temper got the better of you and you just yelled in the poor girl's face. You made her feel really good, didn't you?"

"I didn't mean to."

"Don't say it to me. Say it to Tasanee."

Jared shifted his gaze to the ground. "I don't know. I mean, it's been how many weeks since I yelled at her? It's probably too late to apologize."

"Argh!" Rosa slapped her sides. "It's just easier not to deal with a problem, isn't it? Things get a little too tough, get a little too uncomfortable for you, and you just throw up your hands and walk away."

"That's bullcrap, and you know it. You didn't see me chicken out during the war, did you? I fought alongside you and Jimmy and Artimus from Ovenderburg all the way to Helghorst Island."

"Yeah, because you didn't have to worry about leading or making big decisions. You left that up to me and Jimmy. You could handle it when we told you which direction to point your wand, but Merlin forbid you should take any sort of initiative, take charge when the situation calls for it. Michelle Bunker wanted you to make a commitment to her, to have you tell her you loved her. But did you? No, of course not. Or what about right now? Your father is wasting away, and how do you deal with it? By camping out in a jungle thousands of miles away."

"Shut up!"

Rosa responded with a sardonic laugh. "You're telling me to shut up? I'm not the one who runs away instead of facing up to his responsibilities."

"What responsibilities?"

"To the people you love." Rosa flung her arms out to her sides. "To your father, to the rest of our family. To me! I've been your best friend since we were in diapers. And to Tasanee, too."

Jared's brow crinkled. "I don't love Tasanee."

"Maybe, maybe not. But she does seem to be the only person in this camp who's made any sort of attempt to make friends with you."

"I don't need any friends here. I'm doing fine on my own."

"Yeah, you're just having a ball here, aren't you?" Rosa scoffed.

Clenching his teeth, Jared turned away, staring blankly at the sagging jungle trees that surrounded the encampment. Rosa's words echoed in his pounding head. His face scrunched up as he tried to ignore them. What the hell did she know anyway? She always thought she knew what was best for him from the time they were kids. Well, he didn't need her telling him what to do any more. He was his own man now.

_Maybe it's high time I tell her that._

He swung his head back to Rosa.

"Diaz!"

His eyes widened as his boss, Prajak Channukul, rounded the corner of the tent. He swore he caught a ghost image of his cousin as the Thai walked through her vanishing form. Jared rubbed his eyes as Prajak stopped a couple feet from him.

"What's wrong with you? Who were you talking to?"

"What? Huh? Oh, um, I was, um, thinking out loud."

Prajak's face twisted, looking unconvinced. Thankfully, he didn't pursue his suspicions. "You need to come to the communal tent. You have a Floo call from America."

"Who's it from?"

"I don't know." Prajak scowled. "Go find out."

Jared snorted and walked past his boss without uttering a word.

Minutes later he entered the communal tent, with its circles of comfortable couches and chairs, tables set up for Wizards Chess and other games, and a bin full of magazines. He shuffled toward the fireplace, which spouted green flames. In those flames floated a face, a face that made him stop in his tracks when he recognized it.

"Art?"

Artimus Rand smiled. "Hi, Jared. How are you doing?"

He blinked and leaned closer to the flames. Artimus' face continued floating in the fireplace.

_Yup. This is real._

"Um, I'm doing fine, man." His mouth hung open. Merlin's beard, how many months had it been since he last talked to Artimus?

He struggled trying to find something to say. "Um . . . how's things on your end?"

"Good. How goes the expedition?"

"Oh, you know." Jared shrugged. "Dig a hole here, find an old wand there. The usual."

"Uh-huh." Artimus bit his lip. "Any idea when you'll be heading home?"

He flexed his jaw. His boss at the Magical Museum of North America had told him he should expect to be in Thailand for about a year. Well, that year was almost up. He hated it here in Thailand, but did he really want to go back home? Go back to all those problems?

"Um, I don't know, man," he finally answered.

"Oh." A dejected look fell over Artimus' face.

"So, any particular reason for this Floo call? I mean, the U.S. to Thailand has to be costing you a fortune."

"Yeah, actually there is something important I wanted to talk to you about."

Jared nodded. "Okay, shoot."

Artimus drew a breath. "Well, Jimmy's coming by this morning . . . well, this morning back here."

"Jimmy?" Jared drew his head back. "Jimmy's gonna be at your place? I thought he was gone for good from the Wizarding World."

"Well, Mireet convinced him to come back."

"Mireet?" His eyes widened. Were her and Jimmy together, finally? Last he heard from Rosa, Mireet had been dating some guy she worked with at the French Embassy who, in his cousin's words, was "a real jagoff."

"I was thinking," Artimus said. "Maybe you could Floo call here for a few minutes, say hi to him."

"What time is he gonna be there?"

"Around eleven a-m, our time."

Jared winced. "You do realize eleven a-m your time is around the middle of the night here?"

"C'mon, Jared. How long has it been since you two have seen one another?"

He sighed, looking away from Artimus. It would be pretty late at night, and he did have to get up early for work. But this was Jimmy. One of his best friends. After everything they'd been through, surely he could sacrifice some sleep to say hello to him.

"All right, man. Put me down for an eleven o'clock call."

"That's great, Jared." Artimus beamed. "I think Jimmy will really appreciate it. Thanks."

"No prob."

They said their good-byes a minute later.

Jared walked out of the communal tent, still stunned by the news. Jimmy returning to the Wizarding World? He quite honestly never expected him to come back, considering how adamant he'd been about leaving. He had his own personal demons to deal with, what with Rana and Tonks and Fred being killed during the war. Jimmy figured going back to the Muggle World would be the best way to deal with it.

_At least he got to do something he enjoys._

While Jimmy played hockey for a living, he was stuck in Thailand, at a dig where no one liked him and where his asshole of a boss made him doing crap work with an assistant who . . .

He stopped halfway to the work tent. Tasanee's face flashed in his mind. His shoulders sagged, weighed down by guilt.

_Why did I have to be so nasty to her?_

He tapped his fingers against his right leg. Maybe he should apologize. But why would Tasanee accept it? It was clear from her attitude she couldn't stand the sight of him. She had every right to. What had he done to show her he was anything but an asshole?

_Just like Rosa said. Whenever something gets uncomfortable, I just avoid dealing with it._

Jared groaned and shook his head. Terrific. Now he was taking advice from hallucinations.

_Shouldn't you get that taken care of?_

The thought made him grimace. Oh yeah. He really wanted to admit to someone he was seeing things. What if it got back to his boss? Or his family? That's all he needed. Everyone thinking he was nuts.

_It's probably leakage or something from the Daydream Charm._

_Then maybe I should stop using it for a while._

That, however, wasn't an option. The Daydream Charm was his only way of escaping this miserable place.

_Speaking of which . . ._

He checked his watch. He figured in about four hours, the charm would be refreshed enough for him to cast it again.

**XXXXX**

Four hours and nine minutes later, Jared shuffled into his tent and plopped into a cushioned chair. He tried to fight through the pounding in his head to come up with some sort of fantasy. All he had were bits and pieces of people, places and situations. After a few minutes he gave up trying to form any sort of cohesive thought. He simply cast the Daydream Charm and left his fantasy up to fate.

He found himself in a spacious, torchlit room with bookcases lining the stone walls and silk cushions on the floor.

_The Room of Requirement?_

He spun around in a full 360, trying to find someone, anyone, from Dumbledore's Army.

The room was empty.

Brow furrowed, he walked over to the highly polished door and yanked on the brass handle. He stepped outside into . . .

_What the hell?_

He looked around the hallway at the wood-paneled walls, moving paintings and wooden staircase. This wasn't Hogwarts. This was the Salem Witches Institute!

_How? _Salem didn't have a Room of Requirement. Hogwarts did.

Face twisted in bewilderment, Jared took the stairs down to the Blazenrowe Hall parlor, which, for some reason, looked like the living room of the Burrow. In fact, Ron Weasley sat at one of the tables playing Wizards Chess with . . . Dante Marshall? The young black boy shook his head as the tall redhead smiled triumphantly at the board.

"Damn, man." Dante frowned. "Don't you ever lose?"

Shaking his head, Jared started for the front door.

Pounding feet from behind caught his attention. He swung around in time to hear someone shout, "Let's go, team! We've got Quidditch practice!"

Students ran past him. Gregory Lancemore. Rana Rollingsworth.

_Aren't they dead?_

Next came Darius Forten and . . . Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley?

_What are they doing at Salem?_

The Brits gave him a quick nod before rushing out the door. Jared jogged after them. Just as his foot came off the last step, he noticed two people standing a few feet away. Both witches. One was slender and dark-skinned, wearing loose, colorful robes. Miss Venatici, his old History of Magic teacher. The other witch wore a pink cardigan over her robes and had a fleshy face that reminded him of a toad.

_No. No way!_

Somehow, Dolores Umbridge had come to Salem.

"You are a pitiful excuse for a teacher, Miss Venatici," the pink toad berated her. "Absolutely pitiful."

Miss Venatici just stood there, mouth hanging open, not saying a word.

Jared shook his head. Why did Miss Venatici take that? Yeah, she was one of the nicest teachers at Salem, but the woman was also no shrinking violet. She could be tough when she had to.

His anger rose as he watched the former Hogwarts High Inquisitor continue to yell at one of his favorite teachers. He clenched a fist. He needed to get his wand and stun Toadface, like he did during their mission at Hogwarts.

For whatever reason, his hand refused to obey his brain.

Umbridge leaned forward, screaming in Miss Venatici's face. Jared couldn't make out the fat witch's words. It sounded like someone trying to speak while drinking water.

A flash of movement caught his attention. He tore his gaze away from the two teachers and gazed out across the rolling lawns, multitude of trees, and colonial-style buildings that made up the grounds of the Salem Witches Institute. A section of treeline just vanished, replaced by a patch of darkness. Another chunk of the campus collapsed into a pitch black hole. Then another, another. The dark patches consumed the lake, the Communal Hall, the greenhouse.

And it crept closer to him.

His mind screamed at him to run. Instead he just stood there watching the darkness eat away at the world around him. He held his breath as the lawn around him fell away into an abyss.

Suddenly the ground under his feet vanished.

Jared fell into a black void. He opened his mouth to scream, but no sound came emerged. He kept falling, falling . . .

He felt nothing.

_**TO BE CONTINUED**_

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **_Now that FFN has the image manager to allow us to have "covers" for our stories, I'd like to take advantage of it. Unfortunately, I have no artistic talent whatsoever. If anyone out there feels inspired to create a cover for this story, or any of my other stories, please PM me about it._


	57. Darkness Falls

**CHAPTER 57: DARKNESS FALLS**

* * *

Artimus sat on his couch, staring straight ahead at the fireplace. He clasped his hands together, rubbing them slowly, wondering when he'd see green Floo flames gush from the portal. Part of him couldn't wait to see Jimmy again. Another part worried about the reunion, about all the reunions he had planned for today. So many hurt feelings, so many feelings of betrayal. Would they all just leave when they laid eyes on each other? It had been one of the reasons he'd been less-than-forthcoming when he'd invited everyone to his apartment.

_Try underhanded._ He frowned and stared at his clasped hands. He hated having to lie. Merlin knew it didn't come easy to him like it did his father and two remaining brothers. But if he told them his true intentions, he feared none of them would come.

_What if they come here and we still can't resolve anything?_

Artimus swallowed. He felt if he failed here today, he would not get a second chance with them.

His focus returned to the fireplace. He just sat there, waiting. Worrying.

The sudden rush of green flames made him jump. He held his breath, scolding himself for such a reaction, and got to his feet.

"Good morning, Artimus." Mireet's head floated in the green flames. "I just wanted to let you know we are on our way over."

"Thanks. I'll see you soon, then."

Mireet's head disappeared just as Jenna entered the living room. She looked to the fireplace, then to him.

"Mireet and Jimmy?"

Artimus nodded, biting his lip.

Jenna gave him a supportive smile. But even he could tell she, too, was nervous about this gathering.

The green flames intensified. Mireet stepped out of them, followed by . . .

Artimus' eyes widened at the sight of Jimmy O'Bannon. A burst of excitement erupted inside him. How many months had it been since he'd seen his best friend? That excitement was tempered by surprise and worry. Jimmy didn't smile. His gaze was directed more at the floor than anywhere else. He looked tired. No, beaten down would be a better description.

Finally, Jimmy looked up. Artimus just stared at him in silence. A knot formed in his stomach. He couldn't remember ever seeing Jimmy so dejected. He'd had always been so strong, had led him and Rosa and Jared through some of the most difficult times during the war. What could have made him fall apart like this?

Drawing a deep breath, Artimus crossed the living room. "Hey, Jimmy."

Jimmy hesitated, then stuck out his hand. "Hey, Art."

"Um, so, how have you been?" Artimus asked as they shook hands.

"Okay, I guess."

Artimus frowned. Judging by that flat tone, Jimmy was not okay. How could he be okay if he'd done something to get himself arrested by the Muggles?

He had so many questions he wanted to ask. But where to begin? What to say?

Jenna spared him from having to break the awkward silence by going over and hugging Jimmy.

"It's good to see you again, Jimmy."

"You too, Jenna."

She stared at him, expecting him to say more. When he just looked back at her in silence, she bit her lip for a moment. "Um, say, why don't you guys sit down? You want anything to drink? I just made a fresh pot of coffee, I've got butterbeer and soda in the fridge."

Artimus and Mireet asked for coffee, while Jimmy wanted a Sprite. As Jenna disappeared into the kitchen, the three of them sat on the couch, with Jimmy in the middle. He lowered his head, staring at the floor.

Artimus slowly worked his jaw back and forth, trying to find something to say.

"Um . . . so how have things been going with the hockey?"

"Not bad." Jimmy shrugged. "I mean, I'm not lighting up the world like Sergei Federov, but Coach doesn't think I suck so bad that he's released me."

Artimus' brow furrowed. He guessed this _Fidder-off_ person was some hockey player of note in the Muggle World. Jimmy used to throw out so many hockey player names he couldn't keep track of even half of them.

"What about all the other stuff?" he asked. "I mean, living full-time in the Muggle World."

Jimmy's shoulders sagged. "I'm . . . managing."

Artimus frowned. He didn't need to be a master of Legilimency to know Jimmy was lying.

Mireet reached over and gently gripped Jimmy's leg. He looked to her, then over to him. Jimmy appeared more sullen than before.

"Want the truth, Art? Everything sucks. Everything sucked when I was in the Wizarding World, and all these months after I left it, life still sucks."

"So how does it . . . suck?"

"The usual crap. Nightmares about the war. When I was still living in this world, everywhere I looked I'd see a reminder of someone we lost, some battle we fought, the . . . things we did. I thought that wouldn't happen in the Muggle World, but it did. I remember after my first game with the Komets, a bunch of us were in the parking lot signing autographs, and this kid came up to me, holding a camera. I swear he was the spitting image of Colin Creevey."

Artimus nodded. He knew the name well. One of the members of Dumbledore's Army, though he couldn't remember speaking to him during the Longathian Tunnel Affair. Colin had also died during the Battle of Hogwarts.

"It all spiraled down from there," Jimmy continued as Jenna reappeared with their drinks. "I mean, I was fine at the arena, either for practice or an actual game. Those times hockey was the only thing on my mind. But when left, when I didn't have the game to concentrate on, I . . . well, I -"

Another rush of green flames from the fireplace cut off Jimmy. All four of them turned to see a familiar face floating amidst the fire.

"Hey, Art. I'm on my way . . ." Rosa's voice trailed off. Artimus followed her surprised gaze, which she directed at Jimmy.

Her mouth hung open in silence. Several seconds passed before she found her voice again. "I'm . . . I'm on my way over."

The green flames grew brighter. Rosa emerged from them into the living room.

Jimmy got to his feet, his eyes fixed on Rosa. Artimus and Mireet also rose.

"J . . . Jimmy?" Rosa canted her head, unable to take her eyes off him.

The two kept staring at one another, not saying a word. Artimus' eyes flickered back-and-forth between them. His chest tightened in anticipation.

_Come on, guys. Say something. _Actually, he wanted them to _do_ something. He wanted them hug one another and say, "I missed you." "I missed you, too."

They didn't do that. They just continued to stare at one another.

Artimus jerked in surprise when Jimmy finally broke the silence.

"Um . . . hey, Rosa. How're you doing?"

Rosa's shoulders rose and fell with a slow breath. "How am I doing? Yeah, I guess you wouldn't know how I'm doing. I mean, it's been, what? Nine months? Not a visit, not a Floo call, not even a postcard from you."

"I'm sorry." Jimmy shifted his gaze to the wall.

"Oh, and you think sorry makes it all better? After everything we've been through, you abandon us like that? Just, 'Good-bye. Farewell. I'm never gonna see you again. Have fun dealing with all the crap in your life. Not my problem any more.'"

"No." Jimmy shook his head. "I never thought that. I still care about you, all of you."

"Just not enough to stay here. To be here in case we needed you."

The veins in Artimus' neck stuck out. He'd been afraid of this sort of confrontation.

_Why can't they just be happy to see one another? _

Even when he planned this, he feared some conflicts may arise among his friends. Jenna had told him it might be a good thing to let every yell at one another, to get any hurt feelings out of the way.

"It could be therapeutic," she had told him.

He looked over at Jenna, who grimaced and stared at the floor. She looked to be having second thoughts about this therapeutic yelling.

Rosa continued. "You run off, Jared runs off, and who's left to try and put my family back together? Me. And, oh, would you like to hear how that's been going? Would you like to hear how Uncle Irving is even worse than he was nine months ago when you turned your back on all of us? Would you like to hear about the argument I got into with Esteban? The one that ended with him whacking me across the face?"

"What?" Jimmy's eyes widened.

"Yeah. You missed all that. You missed all that so you could run back to the Muggle World, play hockey, and forget about all of us here."

Jimmy looked like he was about to say something. Instead his shoulders sagged and he lowered his head.

A chill went through Artimus' insides. His worry for Jimmy grew. He couldn't believe how meek his friend looked. He remembered all those times at Salem when someone got in an argument with Jimmy, he'd get right up in their face, and not back down an inch.

Was that Jimmy O'Bannon gone forever?

He glanced at Mireet. Surely she couldn't like the things Rosa was saying about Jimmy. He wondered when the French witch would leap to his defense.

By the resolute look on her face, Mireet seemed content to sit back and let Jimmy take his verbal lumps.

_Maybe he needs to._

"Rosa, I'm sorry." Jimmy held out both hands, as if begging Rosa to accept his apology. "I didn't mean to hurt you."

"Well you did." Her face contorted, to the point Artimus didn't know if she was angry or trying not to cry. Or both.

"I always thought I could count on you," Rosa continued. "You and Jared. How could I think otherwise after everything we went through during the war? Then Jared leaves, you leave. Artimus has Jenna, and I didn't feel right to bug him with my problems. But they was there when I needed them. Where were you, Jimmy? Where were you and Jared? Me and Artimus deserve better than to have you just drop us like we were nothing."

"It wasn't easy to just up and leave, you know." Intensity flared across Jimmy's face for an instant.

"Well it couldn't have been that hard since you did it."

"Rosa." Mireet stepped forward. "Please be fair."

"Why? Hell, if anyone should be pissed off at Jimmy it should be you." Rosa nodded to Mireet. "He's carried a torch for you since you two were at Hogwarts, and I know you felt the same way about him. And as much as he cared for you, he still left you."

"I know. But I am willing to forgive him. And I know you do as we-"

Someone knocked at the door. Rosa snapped her head toward it. "Who the heck's that?"

Artimus swallowed. He felt certain who was at the door, and wondered if it would make things worse.

"Um, I'll get it." Jenna headed toward the door, though not in a big hurry. When she got there, she hesitated for a moment, then turned the knob.

"Hi, Jenna."

"Um, hey, Mrs. Infante."

Artimus' heart sped up as Jenna stepped aside to let Rosa's mother enter.

"Hi, Artimus. Good to see y-"

She stopped in her tracks, staring with wide eyes at Rosa, who looked equally surprised.

"Rosa? What are you doing here? Jimmy? Mireet?" Mrs. Infante turned to Artimus with a perplexed look. "Artimus, what's going on here?"

Tension gripped his entire body. He prayed they wouldn't be mad at him.

"I'm sorry, okay? Rosa, I didn't invite you over for lunch, and Mrs. Infante, that whole thing about a personal matter I had to talk to you about, that was a lie. Well, sort of. The whole reason for everyone being here today is a personal matter. Mireet convinced Jimmy to come back to the Wizarding World. I figured I'd take the opportunity to bring us together because . . . well, let's face it. We've all had issues since the war ended."

"That's an understatement," Rosa grumbled.

Artimus sighed, averting his eyes from Rosa as he continued. "I was afraid if I told you the truth, you may not come. This way, we're all together, and maybe we can resolve some of the problems we're having."

"Well, I know one problem that can be resolved right away." Rosa folded her arms and fixed her mother with a harsh stare. "Give Uncle Irving his old job back."

Mrs. Infante groaned. "We're not going to rehash that old argument, are we?"

"Why not? You were the one who recommended he be relieved. He was still mourning Aunt Liana, and you took away the one thing that could have kept him going. Now look at him. He's a shell. A husk. He's not the Uncle Irving I knew."

"You act like I enjoyed making him like that. Do you really think I wanted to make that recommendation? Do you think I didn't agonize over it?"

"Apparently you didn't agonize enough. And because of it, Uncle Irving's just wasting away. Happy?"

Mrs. Infante's cheeks blazed red. "How dare you!? This is my brother we're talking about. My brother! Do you have any idea how much it tears me apart to see him the way he is? Do you have any idea how much it hurts, to try to help him, to knock and knock and knock on his door, and he won't let you in?" Tears glistened in the eyes of the Director of the U.S. Aurors Bureau. Her face tightened, trying to keep any from spilling.

Tremors took hold of Artimus' legs. Hesitantly, he switched his gaze to Rosa, hoping her mother's words had sunk in.

Instead she looked even angrier.

"Well if you care about Uncle Irving so much, then get him out of that damn basement at the Department of Magic and let him do something useful. Let him feel like he's worth something."

"Does he look like he's in any shape to do anything useful for the Department?"

"Now you're talking like the Director of the Aurors Bureau and not like family." Rosa scowled and shook her head. "I can't believe there was a time I was happy you got that job. But look what's happened since you became Director. You stabbed Uncle Irving in the back, and I have to put up every auror in New England thinking I only became an auror because you happen to be my mother, when the truth is, I became an auror without any damn help from you!"

"Rosa, come on." Artimus stepped between them. "That's going too -"

"I can't believe I raised such a disrespectful, ungrateful daughter!"

"Then maybe you should have done us both a favor and given me up for adoption!" Rosa yelled back. "Or just left me in the woods to be raised by trolls. I would have been better off with them than you!"

"Knock it off!"

Artimus froze. For a moment, his brain refused to accept the reality. He had really said that. Really shouted at both Rosa and her mother.

The reality finally sank in. It fueled his anger toward the Infante women.

He ignored the shocked gazes of Jenna, Jimmy and Mireet and rotated his head from Rosa to Mrs. Infante. "I can't believe what I'm hearing. Is being related to each other that horrible? Maybe instead of yelling at one another, you should feel lucky to have the kind of family you do. You could have the kind of family I do. Try having a father who's never happy with anything you do, who acts you like you're an embarrassment to the family, who treats you like dirt. Try having two brothers who act the exact same way toward you. Try having one step-mother after another that cares more about how much money is in the family vault than she does about you! That's the sort of family I grew up in. None of you did!" Artimus swung around, taking in everyone in the room.

He drew a few angry breaths before continuing. "When we were going to school, every time I was over your house," he looked to Rosa. "Or your house," he looked to Jimmy. "Or Jared's house, or when I saw you guys and your families at Pier SWI, and I saw how you treated one another, how you cared about one another, how you genuinely liked being around one another, I thought you were the luckiest people in the world to come from families like that." His face tightened for a moment. "And I'm . . . I'm ashamed to say this, but I was jealous. My three best friends in the world, and I was jealous of seeing you with your families. Because I wanted my family to be that way."

His eyes locked on Rosa. He took a few steps toward her. "Rosa. Remember that night, Seventh Year, after everyone at Salem had been given the antidote for the Projection Potion. The four of us were in my dorm room. We talked about how we were family, how we had to stick together during the war. How we weren't going to let Voldemort or anything else tear us apart. Now look. That's exactly what's happening. Voldemort's been dead almost two years, and we're letting all the things he and his Death Eaters did during the war come between us. Are we just going to let that happen?"

Rosa just folded her arms and dipped her head.

Artimus looked around at the others. Jimmy, Mireet and Mrs. Infante all stared at different parts of the apartment in silence.

"Oh, come on!" Artimus threw his arms out to his sides. "Is it really that hard to just start talking to one another and work through all this crap!? We've had problems before, but we never let it get this -"

A gusher of green flame from the fireplace cut him off. Everyone turned to see who was Flooing them.

_Jared?_ It had to be. Artimus' brow furrowed. Jared should have Floo called here ten minutes ago.

But Jared's face didn't appear in the flames. Instead Mr. Infante gazed out at them.

"Rosa? Mireet? Jimmy!?" His eyes widened in surprise. "I didn't know you'd be here."

"Cesario?" Mrs. Infante walked toward the fireplace. "I didn't know Artimus invited you here, too."

"He didn't. I had to Floo you because . . ." The Secretary of Magic paused. "I've got some bad news. Our embassy in Thailand contacted me a few minutes ago. Jared's in a coma."

**IMPORTANT AUTHOR'S NOTE: **_**This is obviously an epic kind of story, and I've got plenty more ground to cover with the quartet. But since I'm up to 57 chapters here, I have decided that this is where I will end "In The Grip Of Darkness . . . PART ONE!" Coming very soon will be IN THE GRIP OF DARKNESS: PART TWO. Can the quartet rebuild their shattered lives? Read on to find out.**_


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